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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


■yh' 


A  HISTORY  OF  PAINTING 


A 

HISTORY  OF  PAINTING 

BY  HALDANE  MACFALL 

WITH  A  PREFACE  BY 

FRANK    BRANGWYN 


^he  Renaissance  (Edition 

OF  THE 

HISTORY  OF   PAINTING 

LIMITED  TO  ONE   THOUSAND  NUMBERED 
COPIES,  OF   WHICH  THIS  IS  NUMBER 

...G.fc...^ 


XXII 

{Frontispiece) 

RAPHAEL 

1483-  1520 

UMBRIAN  SCHOOL 

"THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  TOWER" 

(National  Gallery) 

The  Virgin  is  seated  behind  a  parapet  ;  she  is  holding  the  Infant  Christ 
with  her  right  arnfi.  In  the  distance  is  seen  a  tower,  from  which  the 
picture  takes  its  name. 

Painted  on  canvas — possibly  transferred  from  wood(?).  2  ft.  6  in.  h.  x 
2  ft.  I  in.  w,  (0762  xo'635). 


A 

HISTORY  OF  PAINTING 

BY  HALDANE   MAC  FALL 

WITH   A   PREFACE   BY 
FRANK    BRANGWYN 

IN    EIGHT   VOLUMES.     ILLUSTRATED   WITH 
TWO  HUNDRED  PLATES  IN  COLOUR 


VOL.  I 

THE  RENAISSANCE  IN  CENTRAL  ITALY 


DANA  ESTES  AND  GO. 
BOSTON 


Art 
Lilirary 


PREFACE 

Although  I  have  little  practice  with  the  pen,  I  feel 
impelled  to  say  a  few  words  upon  this  History  of 
Painting,  and  upon  the  man  who  has  written  it.  Here 
is  a  book  on  painting  in  which  the  writer  comes  into 
the  art  and  tries  to  appreciate  it,  instead  of  dishing  up 
hackneyed  laws  and  recipes  for  the  making  of  it. 

All  arts  are  akin  ;  and  Haldane  Macfall  realises  this 
vital  fact.  If  the  writers  upon  art  would  only  hesitate  at 
times,  and  remember  that  those  who  practise  it  have  been 
through  the  difficulties  of  the  perplexing  business  in  their 
apprenticeship  to  their  craft,  and  have  accepted  or  rejected 
most  of  the  theories  that  they  pour  forth  as  discoveries, 
there  would  be  less  hidebound  talk  about  painting. 

I  take  it  that  Haldane  Macfall  has  done  what  we  do  : 
he  has  been  through  the  toil  of  apprenticeship  to  his  craft  ; 
he  has  found  all  the  bookish  theories  to  be  dead  stuff; 
and  then  he  has  gone  straight  to  life,  come  to  grips  with 
life,  and  discovered  that  living  art  is  only  to  be  found  in 
the  interpretation  of  Life — in  the  personal  expression  of  the 
impressions  that  life  has  made  upon  him.  That,  it  seems 
to  me,  is  the  foundation  of  the  whole  thing  ;  and  that  is 
what  he  here  states  it  to  be. 

But  it  is  easier  to  say  that  art  should  interpret  life  than 
it  is  to  create  art.  The  artist  has  to  go  through  a  mighty 
labour  of  craftsmanship  before  the  hand  answers  at  will  to 
the  brain.     The  eye  runs  ahead  of  the  fingers.     And  the 

V 


PREFACE 


temptation  comes,  after  a  while,  to  mistake  the  craft  of  the 
fini^ers  for  the  impression  or  the  moods  that,  however 
blundering  our  hands,  we  try  to  arouse  in  our  fellow-men 
by  our  art.  It  is  a  healthy  thing,  then,  to  find  a  man 
stepping  out  of  his  art  of  literature,  and  understanding  the 
motives  that  the  painters  have  given,  and  are  giving,  their 
lives  and  careers  to  create,  instead  of  trying  to  shackle  the 
feet  of  the  artist  with  cast-iron  laws  that  artists  do  not 
understand,  and  that  the  writers  of  the  next  generation 
will  scrap. 

No  artist  of  power  works,  or  has  worked,  on  bookish 
systems.  No  master  drags  out  a  canvas  and  says :  By 
thunder  !  I  '11  achieve  the  Pyramidal ;  here  goes  for  Unity, 
inspired  by  Vitality,  brushed  in  with  Infinity,  and  qualified 
by  Repose.  This  is  all  very  well  if  you  are  trying  to  teach 
a  student  to  become  an  artist  in  twelve  lessons.  I  do  not 
say  that  no  man  so  paints  ;  for  one  sees  work  at  times  that 
could  have  been  created  in  no  other  way.  But  it  is  not 
the  way  of  the  masters,  if  it  is  the  way  of  the  schoolmasters. 
The  methods  and  aims  of  an  artist  are  deeper  and  more 
profound  ;  they  are  beyond  the  reach  of  explanation  and 
outside  all  recipe.  No  man  has  yet  explained  how  to 
create  a  work  of  art  ;  and,  thank  God,  no  man  ever  will. 
I  do  not  say  that  the  critics  cannot  invent  a  system  to 
fathom  it  ;  I  go  much  further,  and  say  that  the  artists 
cannot. 

Here  is  a  book  in  which  the  writer  has  not  concerned 
himself  with  the  fact  whether  one  master  is  greater  than 
another  ;  but  has  sought  to  understand  what  each  artist 
has  given  his  strength  to  express.  The  writers  on  the 
history  of  art  as  a  rule  give  too  much  importance  to  the 
greatness  of  one  artist  over  another  ;  here  we  have  an 
endeavour  to  find  in  the  works  of  so-called  lesser  men  those 
vi 


PREFACE 


qualities  of  sincerity  and  truth  that  are  as  vital  as  the 
greater  efforts  of  men  more  richly  endowed. 

Here  we  have  a  history,  whether  we  agree  with 
it  or  disagree  with  it,  which  is  an  estimate  of  painting 
by  a  man  who,  instead  of  slavishly  accepting  cast-iron 
tradition,  has  challenged  tradition  from  its  beginnings ; 
who  has  always  looked  upon  works  of  art  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  artist  ;  who  has  always  questioned  the 
merely  scholarly  verdicts  on  art  wheresoever  he  has  found 
them. 

I  can  quite  understand  that  the  exact  date  at  which  an 
artist's  pictures  were  painted,  the  documentary  evidence  as 
to  what  pictures  can  be  attributed  with  certainty  to  him, 
and  the  complicated  scientific  rules  and  theories  for  deciding 
the  authority  of  paintings,  have  an  antiquarian  value.  But 
all  this  leaves  the  vital  facts  of  art  untouched. 

The  value  of  the  Old  Masters  is  enormous  if  we  look 
upon  their  works  as  a  superb  expression  of  their  age  ;  more 
valuable  still  if  they  inspire  modern  painters  to  try  and 
express  their  own  age  with  the  same  power  ;  but  they  are 
disastrous  if  we  only  try  to  mimic  them. 

There  is  one  note  in  particular  in  these  volumes  that 
is  struck  again  and  again,  and  cannot  be  sounded  too  often. 
The  moment  that  an  artist  ceases  to  interpret  life  and 
thinks  in  terms  of  pictures  by  other  men  instead,  his 
creation  withers,  however  much  his  craftsmanship  may 
gain.  The  moment  that  a  painter  becomes  a  mimic  of  a 
dead  Master,  and  only  strives  to  repeat  what  has  been 
already  said  with  unmatchable  skill,  he  becomes  an 
imitator,  and  ceases  to  be  an  artist.  This  loss  of  origin- 
ality in  the  endeavour  to  paint  like  others  has  been  the 
chief  cause  of  decay  in  every  school  in  the  past.  Haldane 
Mactall  points  to  this  cause  of  decay  as  he  reviews  school 

vii 


PREFACE 


after  school.  It  is  a  warning  note  that  cannot  be  too 
strongly  insisted  upon  to-day  ;  for  it  is  unfortunately  only 
too  often  the  proportion  of  his  skill  in  imitation  that  draws 
the  acclaim  of  critics  to  the  work  of  a  painter.  But 
personality  is  the  supreme  triumph  of  an  artist,  though 
originality  is  the  very  thing  for  which  he  has  often  to 
suffer  neglect. 

In  these  volumes  the  reader  is  led  through  the  great 
achievement  of  the  Masters  in  the  past,  with  no  lack  of 
reverence  for  their  splendid  and  immortal  genius  ;  but  I 
am  glad  to  see  this  constant  warning  raised  against  the  mere 
imitation  of  the  dead.  These  Masters  expressed  their  age 
once  and  for  all.  A  writer  to-day  might  just  as  well  imi- 
tate the  language  and  spelling  of  Chaucer  and  think  that 
thereby  he  was  creating  art,  as  a  painter  to-day  imitate 
the  great  Italians.  The  age  that  produced  them  is  dead 
and  gone.  We  live  in  a  new  age,  in  a  changed  atmosphere, 
and  see  things  in  a  wholly  different  way. 

We  can  never  call  back  the  dead  past  with  the  skill  and 
truth  with  which  it  was  recorded  by  the  men  who  lived  in 
the  past,  whose  blood  tingled  with  the  enthusiasms  and 
hopes  and  ambitions  of  their  day.  But  we  can  learn  the 
mighty  lesson  from  the  dead  Masters  to  see  life  true.  And 
we  are  fortunate  to  have  the  vast  heritage  of  hundreds  of 
masterpieces  which,  had  they  perished,  would  have  left  us 
worlds  the  poorer. 

The  man  who  cannot  understand  the  relation  of  art  to 
life  in  his  own  day,  is  little  likely  to  understand  that  relation 
in  the  past.  But  if  he  has  been  granted  this  gift,  it  will 
enable  him  to  appreciate  all  that  is  significant  in  the  art 
of  the  past. 

Frank  Brangwyn. 


Vlll 


FOREWORD 

That  man  who  is  without  the  arts  is  little  above  the  beasts  of  the 
Jield,  Tet,  there  is  no  question  about  it,  your  ordinary  man 
dreads  the  word  Art.  To  him  Art  means  Babble  of  strange 
sounds,  of  weird  phrases  ;  to  him  it  stands  for  a  little  coterie  of  men 
who  give  themselves  exclusive  airs  of  "  being  in  the  know  " — men 
who  preen  themselves  upon  being  of  a  cult  to  which  in  some  mysterious 
way  they  have  been  admitted,  or  the  inner  sanctuary  of  which,  by 
some  profound  gifts,  they  have  usurped,  but  to  which  the  ordinary 
man  may  never  even  hope  to  attain.  Indeed,  it  is  the  chief  source 
of  pride  of  these  self-constituted  elect  that  art  is  only  for  the  few 
— the  Chosen  Souls — meaning  themselves.  Tour  ordinary  man 
is  easily  convinced  of  his  limitations ;  and  straightway  takes  the 
apologetic  attitude ;  avers  that  he  "  does  not  know  anything  about 
art "  ;  shrugs  his  shoulders ;  and  fie  s  at  the  sound  of  the  word. 

As  one  who  has  essayed  to  create  art  in  letters  and  painting, 

I  have  read  the  effusions  and  listened  to  the  loud   talk    and 

dogged  dogmas  of  the  Cult ;  and  I  soon  discovered  that  they  knew 

far  less  of  the  real  significance  of  art  than  many  of  the  hundreds 

of  youngsters  who  have  taken  a  canvas  and  brush  and  paint  and 

tried  to  create  art.     I  soon  discovered  even  more  than  this ;  I 

found  that  the  creators  of  this   exclusive  cult,  not  only  do  not 

understand  the  full  significance  of  art,  but  they  create  a  wordy 

code  of  laws  and  rules,  and  try  to  explain  by  long-winded  efforts, 

the  facts   of  art  which  they  do  not  fully  understand,  and  they 

thereby  set  up  a  tajigle  of  misleading  futilities  that  impress  the 

ordinary  man,  and  drive  him  still  farther  away  from  art.     I 

VOL.  I — b  ix 


FOREWORD 

will  go  much  further.  I  say  that  the  ordinary  man  who  comes 
before  a  painting,  frankly  and  generously  ready  to  yield  himself  up 
to  the  impression  that  the  artist  has  sought  to  arouse  in  his  senses 
through  his  vision,  will  feel  the  signifcatjce  of  that  art  much  more 
purely  and  fully  than  the  critic  who  has  set  up  for  himself  an 
elaborate  code  of  laws  founded  on  the  achievement  of  one  or 
two  great  masters,  which  standard  he  applies  to  every  work 
of  art  in  a  calculated  and  death-dealing  manner  which  destroys 
his  capacity  to  receive  its  real  significance. 

In  short,  the  expert,  by  book-learning  and  by  science,  may  come 
to  a  wide  knowledge  of  the  history  of  a  painting  and  of  its  maker  ; 
but  he  has  no  gifts  whereby  he  senses  the  real  significance  of  that 
work  of  art  a  whit  better  than  the  ordinary  man,  who  is  often 
endowed  with  superb  and  exquisite  perception  of  the  music  that  is 
in  colour  and  line  and  mass. 

It  is  as  fatuous  to  measure  the  art  of  a  Boucher  or  a  Char  din 
by  the  art  of  a  Michelangelo  or  a  Rembra?idt,  as  it  is  to  measure 
the  art  of  a  Velazquez  by  the  art  of  a  'Turner.  The  sole  signifi- 
cance is  as  to  whether  an  artist,  by  the  wizardry  of  his  skill,  has 
created  the  impression  upon  our  senses  that  he  desired  to  create. 
If  he  shall  have  done  so,  then  for  us  who  sense  it,  he  is  a  creator ; 
if  he  shall  have  failed,  then  for  us  whom  he  fails  to  reach  he  does 
not  exist  as  an  artist. 

Asked  to  write  a  general  impression  of  the  Art  of  Painting 
throughout  the  Ages,  the  which  is  to  gather  together  an  hundred 
thousand  of  such  impressions — some  vaguely  enough  realised — and 
to  set  them  down  in  the  deliberate  and  clear  testament  of  the  pens 
black  ink — surely  no  light  task  I — it  came  to  me  that  it  were  as 
well  for  an  artist  to  essay  the  business  and  thereby  perhaps  bring 
art  nearer  to  the  ordinary  man.  To  rid  the  artistic  endeavour  as 
much  as  possible  from  the  Museum  habit  and  the  Museum  attitude 
towards  it ;  surely  this  was  worth  the  while  I 

X 


FOREWORD 

For,  mark  you^  the  artist  does  not  create  a  work  of  art  to 
please  the  experts.  He  does  not  say  to  himself ,  I  will  build  this 
composition  so  that  the  professor  shall  say  I  have  achieved  the 
pyramidal ;  he  does  not  employ  colour-harmonics  to  escape  the 
censure  or  win  the  praise  of  the  critics.  He  deliberately  paints 
the  work  of  art  so  that  his  fellow-men  may  be  moved  by  the  sensa- 
tions that  he  desires  to  arouse  in  their  senses  through  the  gift  of 
vision.  He  deliberately  and  only  creates  the  masterpiece  in  order 
that  the  ordinary  man  shall  be  roused  to  a  sense  of  dignity.,  or 
horror.,  or  sublimity.,  or  tragedy.,  or  laughter.,  or  tears,  or  the  like 
emotion,  through  the  sense  of  colour  and  form.  All  the  craftsman- 
ship and  tricks  of  thumb  whereby  he  achieves  this  result,  are  but  as 
the  chips  of  his  workshop.  He  does  not  create  a  work  of  art  that 
the  experts  may  say,  this  is  done  by  this,  or  that  done  by  that. 
He  looks  to  the  impression  of  the  whole.  The  moment  he  paints 
only  to  show  his  cleverness,  he  is  a  second-rate,  and  his  creative 
force  has  departed.  But  it  is  his  business  to  master  every  detail 
and  trick  of  craftsmanship,  to  employ  every  gift,  to  the  utterance 
of  the  poetry  that  is  in  him.  And  the  expert  has  only  too  often 
the  habit  of  missing  the  significance  in  spying  out  the  details  and 
tricks  of  thumb. 

In  these  pages  I  have  simply  written  of  the  greater  men  of 
genius  who  have  contributed  to  the  art  of  painting ;  and  I  have 
touched  upon  their  more  famous  works  rather  than  attempted  an 
exhaustive  list  of  all  their  endeavour,  the  which  has  no  value 
except  to  the  dealer  in  antiques.  The  volumes  are  an  attempt  to 
place  before  the  ordinary  man  the  chief  achievement  of  the  years 
in  the  Art  of  Painting ;  and  to  hint  at  something  of  the  real  signifi- 
cance of  that  achievef}ient. 

I  have  avoided  all  the  clap-trap  of  so-called  criticism ;  you 
shall  find  no  such  pedantries  as  bottegay^r  "  workshop,''  a  good 
sound  English  word ;  the  ghastly  epigoni  or  bastard  epigones 

xi 


FOREWORD 

you  shall  Jind  used  never  for  "  imitators  "  or  ''copyists,''  the  more 
so  since  "  disciples  "  better  Jits  many  followers  of  a  great  artist,  for 
they  are  often  much  more  than  copyists  or  imitators.  I  give  you 
no  fantastic  pedant's  balderdash  about  "  tactile  values "  or 
"  space  composition" ;  about  your  "vasomotor  system"  or  "the 
materially  significant  "  or  jc//r  "ideated  sensations."  Each 
year  brings  forth  a  further  crop  of  these  futilities.  I  am  wholly 
unconcerned  with  discovering  little  mediocre  men  because  they  worked 
in  the  Italian  Renaissance,  and  are  long  since  deservedly  dead. 
When  works  of  art  are  torn  from  the  place  that  they  were  created 
to  adorn,  ana  are  set  up  in  Museums,  they  have  already  passed  into 
the  graveyard  of  their  significance.  A  Crucifixion  in  a  dining- 
room  has  lost  its  savour,  its  essential  meaning,  and  its  authority. 

When  I  speak  of  an  Illustration,  1  mean  an  illustration, 
whether  it  be  by  Raphael  or  by  a  hack-artist  on  the  Illustrated 
London  News  ;  /  do  not  split  logic  to  define  the  difference — 
there  is  none.  When  I  speak  of  Beauty,  /  mean  beauty ;  when 
I  say  Decoration,  /  mean  decoration — as  any  ordinary  man 
conceives  these  words.  It  is  far  more  simple  than  explaining 
Decoration  to  be  something  else,  which,  though  it  may  prove  the 
cleverness  of  the  critic,  were  as  though  one  held  that  a  chalk-pit 
were  a  Spanish  onion. 

Let  me  add  here  a  truth  that  has  been  convincingly  borne  m 
upon  me  in  the  presence  of  all  master-work  in  whatsoever  art. 
The  elaborate  laws  and  technique-monger ing  of  the  academies  and 
of  the  critics  had  small  concern  for  the  creative  artist.  The 
artist  bends  every  means  to  his  end  that  may  help  to  utter  the 
emotion  he  desires  to  express.  He,  as  often  as  not,  does  the  thing 
half  unwitting  of  the  law  of  craft  he  is  setting  up,  bent  wholly  on 
the  perfecting  of  the  impression.  Take  so  profound  a  master  as 
Leonardo  da  Vinci.  When  he  paints  maidenhood,  he  is  con- 
cerned with  its  modesty,  its  timidities,  its  untried  experience  about 
xii 


FOREWORD 

to  be  essayed^  the  mystery  of  virginity — when  he  paints  the 
sovereign  woman,  sure  of  her  spell,  he  utters  her  sphinx-like 
exultation,  as  La  Forgue  uttered  it  in  his  triumphant  '"'•  I  am 
Woman ! "  Whatsoever  was  the  significance  of  the  thing  he 
desired  to  create,  that  he  wrought  with  all  his  strength,  to  that  he 
brought  his  compelling  will ;  and,  the  moment  he  had  achieved  it, 
the  thing  interested  him  no  more,  and  he  left  it  in  order  to  get 
him  to  other  conquests. 

The  whole  history  of  life,  of  man,  and  of  art,  is  a  tale  of 
Development — 'Evolution,  as  the  professors  have  it.  So,  too,  in 
Painting.  We  see  the  artist  first  drawing  the  outline  of  things  ; 
then  he  fills  the  space  with  flat  colour ;  he  conquers  the  flatness  of 
the  painted  surface.  Then  he  essays  to  conquer  the  depth  of 
things  seen,  as  in  a  mirror.  He  moves  always  towards  realism 
— towards  uttering  the  sensations  by  means  of  colour  and  form 
that  compel  the  mind  at  once  to  grasp  the  significance  of  the 
painted  objects.  The  realm  of  the  Art  of  Painting,  so  far  from 
being  exhausted,  increases  its  domain  in  every  century — at  times 
by  such  small  advances  as  almost  to  show  no  advance.  But 
steadily,  as  mans  sensations  of  the  experience  of  life  increase,  so 
increases  his  generosity  of  soul  to  share  those  sensations  of 
experiences  with  his  fellows.  His  path  thereto  is  through  the 
faculty  of  the  arts.  Therefore  it  is  by  the  arts  alone  that  man 
shall  reach  to  the  fulness  of  life. 

I  cannot  let  these  volumes  go  forth  from  the  printing-press 
without  acknowledgment  of  a  heavy  debt  to  the  aid  which  I 
have  received  from  my  friend,  T.  Leman  Hare,  in  the  pro- 
curing of  illustrations  in  colour  from  masterpieces  scattered 
abroad  throughout  Europe.  The  publishers  have  only  been 
balked  in  reaching  a  few  supreme  masterpieces  by  such  rare 
difliculties  as  the  bad  lighting  of  works  which  are  rigidly  fixed 
in  position,  or  otherwise  beyond  the  reach  of  the  colour  camera; 

xiii 


FOREWORD 

and  without  Harems  dogged  efforts  to  reach  certain  f?iasterpieces 
herein  displayed,  and  without  his  keen  supervision  of  the  pro- 
duction of  the  plates^  a  large  part  of  the  intention  of  this  History 
must  have  failed.  To  the  many  private  owners  my  gratitude  is, 
in  poor  fashion  enough,  here  expressed;  and  I  cannot  lay  down 
the  pen  without  thanks  to  the  Editor  of  Th^  Studio y^r  the  use  of 
several  colour-blocks  in  the  last  volume. 

Haldane  Macfall. 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


PAGX 


Preface  by  Frank  Brangwyn        .  .  .  .         v 

Foreword  .......        ix 

Author's  Introduction — 

I.  The  Ultimate  Significance  of  all  Art  .  .  I 

II.  Wherein  is  attempted  a  survey  of  the  Art  of 
Antiquity — and  an  explanation  of  the  terms 
Classic,  Byzantine,  Romanesque,  Gothic,  Re- 
naissance, and  Humanism  .  .  .8 

THE  DAWN  OF  MODERN  PAINTING 

THE  RENAISSANCE  IN  CENTRAL  ITALY 

CHAPTER 

I.  Of  the  Cradle  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy      .  .31 

II.   The  Renaissance  dawns  over  Central  Italy    .  .       36 

III.  Of  the  Italy  into  which  the  Renaissance  came  .       39 

IV.  Of  the  Italy  in  which  the  Renaissance  blossomed  .       45 

THE  PAINTERS  OF  CENTRAL  ITALY 

V.  Wherein  we  see  the  Renaissance  flit  through  Siena    .       63 
VI.  Of  the  Coming  of  Art  into  Florence  .  .       68 

1400 

VII.  Of  the  Tale  of  the  Saintly  Dominican  ,  .       73 

VIII.  Which  tells  of  the  Might  of  Hulking  Tom  .       77 

IX.  Which  is  chiefly  concerned  with  Perspective  .       81 

X.  Wherein    we    are    introduced    to    a    Friar    with  a 

Roving  Eye      .  .  .  .  .86 

XV 


CONTENTS 

I         +         S         o 

THE  GOLDSMITH-PAINTERS  OF  FLORENCE 

CHAPTIH  PAGt 

XL  Which  shows  the  Kinship  of  Painting  and  Sculpture        95 
XII.  Wherein    we    are    introduced   to    the    Poet   of   the 

Springtime  of  the  Renaissance   .  .  .98 

XIII.  Of  an  exquisite  Maker  of  Garlands  .  .  .111 

XIV.  Of  the  son  of  a  Friar  and  a  Nun      .  .  •      ^^S 
XV.  Of  the    Deeps   of  Poetry  that  may  be  within  the 

rough  outer  man  .  .  .  .121 

XVI.  Of  the  Gentle  Soul  of   him  who  created  the  Lay 

Figure  and  his  Friend  the  Fire-eating  Tapster    .      126 

XVII.  Of  a  dandified  Stiggins  of  vast  hand's  skill  .  •      ^3^ 

XVIII.  Of  a  Gentle  Soul  incapable  of  tragedy  .  .      135 

1500 

THE  GOLDEN  AGE 

XIX.  Wherein  we  meet  the  Giant  of  the  Springtime  of 

the  Renaissance  .  .  .  -139 

XX.  Wherein  we  see  the  Mighty  Genius  of   Leonardo 

da  Vinci  create  the  School  of  Milan        .  •      ^59 

XXI.  Wherein  we  see  Art  flit  into  the  Umbrian  hills  .      169 

XXII.  Wherein  we  walk  with  Raphael,  the  Radiant  Child 

of  Fortune  and  Apostle  of  Grace  .  .184 

XXIII.  Wherein  there  passes  by,  in  the   streets  of  Rome, 

unbailed,  the  Giant  of  the  Renaissance   .  .     205 

XXIV.  Wherein   the   Renaissance   in   Italy   perishes   amidst 

the  Ruins  .  .  .  .  .241 


XVI 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Raphael — The  Virgin  of  the  Tower 


TLATZ 

XXiI. 

I.  Margaritone — Virgin  and  Child ^  with  lives  of  the 

Saints  .... 

II.  Simon E   Martini — Christ  bearing  His  Cross 

III.  Fra  Angelico — Virgin  and  Child 

IV.  Ucello — Rout  of  San  Romano 
V.  PiETRo  DEI  Franceschi — Nativity 

VI.  FiLipPO  Lippi — Annunciation 
VII.  Pollaiuolo — St.  Sebastian 
VIII.  Verrocchio — Virgin  and  Child 
IX.  Botticelli — Fresco  :    Giovanna  degli  Albizzi  and 

the  Three  Graces 
X.  Botticelli — Spring 
XI.  Botticelli — Mars  and  Venus 
XII.  Botticelli — The  Crowning  of  the  Virgin 

XIII.  School  of  Ghirlandaio — Head  of  a  Girl 

XIV.  FiLippiNO  LiPPi — Virgin  and  Child  with  St.  Jerome 

and  St.  Dominic 
XV.   Piero   di   Cosimo — Death  of  Pro cr is 
XVI.  Fra  Bartolommeo — Virgin  and  Child  with  Saints 
XVII.  Leonardo   da  Vinci — The  Virgin  of  the  Rocks 
XVIII.  Leonardo   da   Vinci — The  Last  Supper    . 
XIX.   Leonardo   da  Vinci — Head  of  Christ 
XX.  Leonardo   da  Vinci — Mona  Lisa,  or  La  Joconde 
XXI.  LuiNi — The  Mystic  Marriage  of  St.  Catherine 
XXIII.   Raphael — Ansidei  Madonna 

VOL.  I — c  xvii 


Frontispiece 

AT     PAGE 

24 
64 

72 
80 
84 

88 
92 
94 

94 
96 

98 

100 

no 

112 
120 
122 
144 
146 
146 
148 
158 
182 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FLATE  AT  f^^^* 

XXIV.   Raphael — La  Belle  Jardiniere        .  .  .184 

XXV.   Michelangelo — T/ie  Entombment  .  .     204 

XXVI.  Andrea  del  Sarto — Portrait  of  a  Sculptor  .     242 

XXVII.  Bronzing— 5tfj    .  .  .  .  .248 


Map  of  Italy       ......    xxiii 

CHARTS 

School  of  Siena  .              .              .  .  .  .62 

The  Renaissance  in  Florence     .  .  .  -72 

The  so-called  School  of  Milan  .  .  •      "^SS 

School  of  Umbria         .              .  .  .  .178 


XVlll 


LIST   OF    PAINTERS 


Alba,  Macrino  d',  i6i. 
Albertinelli,  129,  130,  245. 
Allori,  Angelo,  246. 
Angclico,  Fra,  72,  73,  74,  75,   86, 

87,    89,   90,    91,    99,    141,     172, 

252. 

Bacchiacca,  II,  183. 
Baldovinetti,  Alcssio,  iii. 
Bandinelli,  Baccio,  215. 
Bartolo,  Taddeo  di,  65,  66. 
Bartolommeo,   Fra,    126,    127,    128, 

129,  130,  136,  167,  169,  188,  194, 

230,  241. 
Bazzi    (called    "II    Sodoma"),    164, 

165,  166,  167,  168,  191,  202. 
Beccafumi,  Domenico,  167. 
Bertucci,  Giovanni  Battista,  182. 
Bctto,  Bernardino  di,  173. 
Bigordi,  Benedetto,  1 14. 
Bigordi,  David,  114. 
Boccaccino,  Boccaccio,  162. 
Boccatis,  Giovanni,  172. 
Boltraffio,  Giovanni  Antonio,  162-3. 
Bonfigli,  Benedetto,  172. 
Borgognone,  161,  163. 
Botticelli,    98-1  ii,    115,    119,    121, 

122,  127,  132,  141,  144,  145,  248, 

252. 
Botticini,  Francesco,  109. 
"  Braghettone,  II,"  226. 
Bramante,  193,  218,  227,  228. 
Bramantino,  161,  191. 
Brescianino,  193. 
Bronzino,  246-9,  250- 1. 
BufFalmaco,  Buonamico,  71. 
Buttinone,  Bernardino,  161. 

Capanna,  Puccio,  71. 
Capponi,  Raffaelo  de',  117. 


Carii,  RafFaelo  de',  117. 

Carucci,  Jacopo,  245. 

Castagno,  Andrea  dal,  81,  82,  83,  84, 

86,  99,  142. 
Cimabue,  25,  26,  63,  64,  65,  68,  69. 
Civerchio,  Vincenzo,  161. 
Condivi,  205. 

Conti,  Bernardino  dc',  161. 
Correggio,  139,  224. 
Cosimo,  Piero  di,   12 1-7,  169,  241, 

244,  245. 
Credi,    Lorenzo    di,    97,    117,    I22, 

135,  136,  147- 

Daddi,  Bernardo,  71. 

Diamante,  Fra,  94. 

Duccio,  25,  63,  64,  65,  68,  167,  170. 

Fabriano,  Gentile  da,  170,  171. 
Fabriano,  Gritto  da,  170. 
Ferrari,  Gaudenzio,  161,  166. 
Fiorentino,  Rosso,  245-9. 
Foligno,  Niccolo  da,  172. 
Foppa,  159,  160,  161. 
Fossano,  Ambrogio  de,  161. 
Francesca  (;^^  Franceschi). 
Franceschi,  84,  85,  86,99,  131,  132, 

142,  186,  191. 
Francia,  184,  186,  232. 
Franciabigio,  244-5. 
Fungai,  Bernardino,  168, 

Gaddi  of  Florence,  71. 

Gaddi,  Taddeo,  71. 

Ghibcrti,  Lorenzo,  76,  77,  78,  95. 

Ghirlandaio,  106, 107,  no,  in,  112, 

113,  114,  115,  127,  136,  141,  188, 

191,  206,  207,  221,  252. 
Gianpetrino,  162. 
Gione,  Andrea  di,  71. 

xix 


PAINTERS 


Giottino,  71. 

Giotto,  26,  63,  64,  68,  70,  71,  72, 

79,  80,  82,  86,  89. 
Giovanni,  Matteo  di,  167. 
Giovcnonc,  Girolamo,  166. 
Gozzoli,  Benozzo,  90,  91,  99,   1 14, 

172. 
Granacci,  Francesco,  114,  206,  207. 

Landi,  Neroccio  di,  167. 
Lanini,  Bernardino,  166. 
Lippi,   Filippino,  88,  102,  107,  no, 

115,  116,  117,  118,  121,  127,  141, 

252. 
Lippi,  Fra  Filippo,  86,  87,  88,  89, 

90,  91,99,  102,  115,  141,  252. 
Lippi,  Fra  Lippo  [see  Filippo  Lippi). 
Lorenzetti,  Ambrogio,  65,  66,  72. 
Lorenzetti,  Pietro,  65,  66. 
Lorenzo,  Fiorenzo  di,  172,  173,  177. 
Lorenzo,  San,  207,  208. 
Luini,  Bernardino,  161,  163. 

Macchiavelli,  Zenobio,  91. 

Magaritone,  24,  26. 

Magnano,  24. 

Mainardi,  Bastiano,  114. 

Manni,  Giannicola,  181. 

Martini,  Simone,  65,  167. 

Masaccio,  75-90,  99,  ill,  116,  141, 

142,  188,  208,  252. 
Masolino,  78,  79. 
Mazzola,  Filippo,  162. 
Melozzo  da  Forli,  131. 
Melzi,  162,  163. 
Memmi,  Lippo,  65. 
Michelangelo,   34,   78,  80,  92,  1 12, 

117,   122,   127,   133-41,  155,  167, 

169,  174,  175,1775  178,  183,  184, 

189,  192,  202-53. 
Milano,  Giovanni  da,  71. 
Mini,  Antonio,  223,  237. 
Monaco,  Lorenzo,  71,  75,  87. 

Nelli,  Martino,  170. 
Nuzi,  Allegretto,  170. 

XX 


Oderigo,  170. 

Oderisi,  170. 

Oggiono,  Marco  d',  152,  162-3. 

Orcagna,  71,  72. 

Pacchia,  Girolamo  del,  167. 

Pacchiarotto,  Jacopo,  167. 

Palmerucci,  Guide,  172. 

Palmezzano,  Marco,  131. 

Penni,  192,  198. 

Perugino,   118,   135,   145,  166,  172- 

80,  182,  186,  191,  232. 
Peruzzi,  167,  168,  191. 
Pesellino,  Francesco,  91. 
Pesello,  Giuliano,  91. 
Pinturicchio,  168,  177-82,  186,  191. 
Piombo,  Sebastian  del,  240. 
Pippi,  Giulio,  192,  203. 
Pisanello,  171. 
Pisano,  Andrea,  72. 
Pisano,  Giovanni,  69. 
PoUaiuolo,  92,  93,  96,  98,  121,  122, 

132,  142,  172,  252. 
Pontormo,  245-9. 
Predis,  Ambrogio  da,  147,  148,  149. 

RafFaellino  del  Garbo,  117. 

Raphael,  in,  114,  128,  131,  139, 
161,  166-9,  176-^9,  190-204,  215, 
224,  227,  230,  232,  235,  245,  252. 

Robbia,  Andrea  della,  188, 

Romano,  Giulio,  192,  198,  203,  230. 

Rosselli,  Cosimo,  121,  126,  169. 

Salaino,  162-3. 

Salviati,  Rossi  de,  245-9. 

Sangallo,  228. 

Sanseverino,  Lorenzo  da,  170. 

Santi,  Giovanni,  131,  185. 

Sarto,  Andrea  del,  125,  184, 194,  224, 

241,  242,  243,  244,  245. 
Sassi;':ta,  167. 
Sellajo,  Jacopo  del,  91. 
Sesto,  Cesare  da,  162-3. 
Sever ino,  Lorenzo  di  San,  171,  172. 
Siena,  Benvenuto  da,  167. 
"Sodoma,  II"  [see  Bazzi). 


PAINTERS 


Sogliani,  Giovanni  Antonio,  136. 

Solario,  Andrea  da,  162. 

Solario,  Antonio  da,  162. 

Spagna,  Lo,  182. 

SpincUi,  71. 

Stamina,  78. 

Suardi,  Bartolommeo,  161. 

Tintoretto,  251. 
Titian,  243-7,  251. 

Ubcrtini,  Francesco,  183. 

Uccello,  81,  82,  84,  86,  93,  99,  131, 

142. 
Urbino,  Francesco,  229. 
Urbino,  Pietro,  222. 

Vaga,  Perino  del,  198. 


Vannucci,  Pietro,  173. 

Vasari,  205,  227,  245,  247. 

Vecchietta,  167. 

Veneziano,  Antonio,  71,  81-84,  99, 

131,  142. 
Venusti,  Marcello,  240. 
Verrocchio,  93,  94,   121,   126,   135, 

136,  142,  145,  173,  252. 
Vinci,  Leonardo  da,  37,  80,  97,  106, 

121,  123,  127,  128,   135',   139-67, 

188,  203,  214,  221,  224,  241,  243, 

245,  252,  253. 
Viti,  Timoteo,  185,  186,  202. 
Volterra,  Daniele  da,  225,  240, 
Volterra,  Francesca  da,  71. 

Zenale,  Bernardo,  161. 
Zingaro,  Lo,  162. 


XTCl 


NOTE 

A  Maesta  is  the  Christ  or  the  Virgin  in  glory. 

A  Pieta  is  the  dead  Christ  mourned  by  the  Virgin. 

A  Tondo  is  a  circular  picture. 

A  Predella  is  the  panel  at  the  base  of  an  altarpiece. 


A  HISTORY  OF  PAINTING 

INTRODUCTION 

I.    The  Ultimate  Significance  of  all  Art 

He  who  would  understand  the  Art  of  Painting  must  first     INTRO- 
understand  the  significance  of  all  Art,  of  which   Painting  DUCTION 
is  but  a  part. 

The  most  vastly  interesting  thing  to  man  is  Life. 

Whence  it  comes,  whither  it  goes — these  are  a  part  of 
the  Eternal  Mystery.  But  we  can,  and  ought  to  know 
all  of  life  'twixt  its  coming  and  its  going. 

Now,  we  can  only  know  life  in  two  ways — either  by 
Personal  Experience  of  it ;  or,  at  second  hand,  through  its 
transference  to  us  by  Communion  with  our  fellow-men. 
But  our  Personal  adventures  in  life,  even  though  we  should 
be  granted  the  destiny  to  bestride  the  world  like  a  Napoleon, 
can  at  best  be  but  a  small  and  parochial  affair,  after  all 's 
said,  when  set  against  the  multitudinous  experience  of  our 
generation.  Shut  off  from  communion  with  our  fellows, 
we  should  walk  but  in  a  blind  man's  parish.  But  it  is 
given  to  us  to  know  of  life  through  our  fellows  by  their 
communion  to  us  of  their  Thoughts  and  their  Sensations. 
And  so,  just  as  by  Speech  we  communicate  our  thoughts  and 
ideas  to  others ;  so  by  Art  we  may  communicate  our  sensa- 
tions, the  emotions  we  feel,  through  the  gift  of  being  able 
to  arouse  in  their  senses  what  our  senses  have  felt — whether 
into  their  hearing  by  sounds,  as  in  Music ;  or  by  the 
emotional  employment  of  words,  as  in  the  poetry  of  prose, 

VOL.  I — A  I 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  or  of  verse,  or  of  oratory  ;  or  through  the  sight  by  the 
DUCTJON  rhythmic  use  of  colour  and  forms,  as  in  Painting  ;  or  by 
form,  as  in  Sculpture  ;  or  by  the  union  of  these,  as  in  the 
drama,  or  architecture,  or  the  like. 

Art,  then,  is  the  Emotional  Utterance  of  Life.  Art 
is  our  emotional  means  of  communion  with  our  fellows. 

And  just  as  Speech  must  be  an  intelligent  utterance  of 
Thought ;  so  must  Art  be  an  intelligent  utterance  of 
Emotion — of  Things  Felt  quite  apart  from  Reason  or 
Intellect. 

Now,  it  is  not  enough  to  have  uttered  a  Thought  to 
account  it  Speech ;  it  is  essential  that  the  Thought  shall 
be  so  uttered  as  to  arouse  the  like  thought  in  the  hearer — 
otherwise  are  we  in  a  Babel  of  Strange  Sounds. 

So,  it  is  not  enough  to  have  uttered  Emotion  to  account 
it  Art ;  it  is  essential  that  the  Emotion  shall  have  been  so 
uttered  as  to  arouse  the  like  Emotion  in  the  onlooker — 
otherwise  are  we  but  in  a  tangled  whirl  of  confusion. 

Therefore,  just  as  Thought  is  the  more  perfectly  and 
swiftly  understood  as  it  is  deftly  expressed  ;  so  is  Emotion 
the  more  powerfully  felt  as  it  is  most  perfectly  uttered.  In 
other  words,  the  Craftsmanship  of  Art  will  generally  be 
beautiful ;  but  it  must  be  compelling — it  must  arouse  the 
subtle  thing  called  Sensation  in  our  emotions  before  it  can 
create  Art.  Craftsmanship,  then,  is  the  grammar  or  tool 
of  Art. 

Now  we  have  arrived  at  the  fact  that  Speech  is  the 
means  of  communion  of  the  Intellect;  Art  is  the  means  of 
communion  of  the  Senses.     There  is  the  marked  difference. 

A  confusion,  created  by  the  Greeks,  and  repeated  by 
the  pedants  of  the  centuries,  has  arisen  in  confusing  Art 
with   Beauty.      That   Art   is   Beauty,  or  has   any  concern 

2 


OF   PAINTING 

with  Beauty,  is  wholly  untenable.     If  not,  then  the  greatest     INTRO- 
masterpieces  of  the   ages   must    be   wholly   rejected  ;    and  DUCTION 
small  things  that  have  no  concern  whatever  with  Art  must 
be  raised  to  masterpieces  of  Art. 

This  confusion  has  largely  arisen  owing  to  the  confusion 
of  Art  with  its  tool,  Craftsmanship. 

A  poker  may  be  a  beautiful  thing — it  is  not  art.  A 
photograph  may  be  beautiful — it  is  not  art.  A  woman 
may  be  beautiful — she  is  not  necessarily  a  work  of  art. 

Art  must  create — it  must  transfer  Sensation  from  the 
creator  of  it  to  us. 

The  Greek  genius  set  up  Beauty  as  the  ultimate  goal 
of  Life — it  therefore  set  up  Beauty  as  the  ultimate  goal  of 
Art.  The  Greeks  really  did  mean  that  beauty  of  crafts- 
manship alone  was  not  enough — that  Art  must  always  create 
Beauty.  This  absolute  aim  to  achieve  Beauty  was  the 
cause  of  the  triumph  of  Greece  in  Art — a  greatly  over- 
rated triumph  when  set  against  the  whole  meaning  of  life, 
and  one  of  which  the  professors  tell  us  much  ;  it  was  also 
the  cause  of  her  limitations  and  of  her  eventual  failure  to 
achieve  the  supreme  mastery  of  the  world,  of  which  we 
hear  little.  For,  splendid  as  was  the  mighty  achievement 
of  Greece,  she  never  reached  to  the  majesty  and  the  grandeur 
of  that  masterpiece  of  sculpture  that  stands  upon  the  edge 
of  Africa,  head  and  shoulders  above  her  achievement,  in  the 
wondrous  thing  that  is  called  the  Sphinx.  The  genius  of 
Egypt  spent  itself  upon  the  majesty  and  the  mystery  of 
life — and  it  moved  thereby  to  a  higher  aim. 

Craftsmanship — that  skill  of  cunning  whereby  the  artist 
so  employs  the  clay  of  the  sculptor,  the  colours  of  the 
painter,  the  words  of  the  poet  in  prose,  or  verse,  or  oratory, 
and  bends   and   compels   these   things  into  such   rhythmic 

3 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-    forms  and   combinations   that  they  create   a   thrill   in  our 

DUCTION  senses  and  arouse  the  desired  emotion — this  craftsmanship 

is  so  fascinating  to  the  mind  of  man  that  it,  not  unnaturally, 

looms  out  of  place  in  the  eyes  of  such  as  do  not  create  Art, 

yet  become  inquisitive  as  to  why  they  are  moved  by  Art. 

When  a  school  arose,  but  a  little  while  ago,  that  had 
for  its  battle-cry  the  still  smaller  aim  of  Art  for  Art's  sake, 
it  really  meant  that  Art  was  for  Craft's  sake — that  the  aim 
of  Art  lay  solely  in  the  beauty  of  its  craftsmanship.  They 
would  have  the  play  of  Hamlet  without  the  Prince  of 
Denmark.  In  the  deeps  of  their  confusion,  what  they  said 
was  this  :  that  if  a  master-hand  painted  a  wall  white  very 
beautifully,  by  his  mastery  of  thumb  he  created  Art  ! 
Otherwise  there  were  no  need  to  say  that  Art  was  for  Art's 
sake.  Of  course.  Art  is  for  Art's  sake.  But  it  were  well 
to  know  what  is  Art.  This  narrow-eyed  school  of  theorists 
whittled  away  the  whole  function  of  Art  until  they  reduced 
it  to  craft — exactly  what  it  is  not.  And  in  proportion  as 
their  folly  grew,  their  arrogance  mounted.  So  that  they 
made  of  a  Truth  an  utter  Falsity — simply  in  that  they  did 
not  know  what  Art  was  ! 

Whistler  would  have  had  us  believe  that  it  is  the 
province  of  Art  to  say  Nothing  very  Beautifully  ;  his 
instincts  and  his  genius  made  no  such  mistake.  He  is 
the  master  of  a  subtle  emotional  statement  that,  in  its 
realm,  has  never  been  surpassed.  He  vowed  that  Art 
was  the  Science  of  the  Beautiful — which  were  no  mean 
definition  of  Craft,  and  had  been  no  bad  definition  of  Art, 
but  that  Art  is  not  Science,  and  is  not  Beauty.  It  was  of 
the  wisdom  of  that  wiseacre  who  defined  a  Crab  as  a  scarlet 
reptile  that  walks  backwards — which  were  not  so  bad,  were 
it  a  reptile,  were  it  scarlet,  and  did  it  walk  backwards. 

Neither  Whistler,  nor  Flaubert,  nor  another  has  the 
4 


OF   PAINTING 

right  to  narrow  the  acreage  of  the  garden  of  hfe.     What     INTRO- 

concern  had  Shakespeare  with  Beauty  ?     In  the  Book  of  DUCTION 

Life  that  Shakespeare  wrote,  Beauty  is  not  his  god — Beauty 

is  not  his  ultimate  aim.     Is  jealousy  beautiful  ?     Yet  Othello 

is  great  art.      Is  man's  ineffectual  struggle  against  destiny 

beautiful  ?     Yet  Hamlet  is  rightly  accounted  a  masterpiece 

of  the  ages.     Are  hate  and   despair  and  fear  and  remorse 

beautiful  ?     It  has  been  written  of  late  that  Millet's  Killing 

of  a   Hog  is  beautiful  !      It   is  wholly  unbeautiful.      Had 

Millet  made  it  beautiful  he  had  uttered  the  stupidest  of 

lies.      Nevertheless,   the    statement   of  it   is   art.      Indeed, 

Millet's  aim  in  art,  a  large  part  of  his  significance  in  art, 

is  a  protest  against  the  pettiness  of  mere  beauty.     He  took 

the  earth,  this  great-soul'd   man,  and  he  wrought  with  a 

master's    statement    the    pathos    and   the    tragedy  and   the 

might   and   the   majesty   of  the   earth   and    of  them    that 

toil  upon  the  earth.     The  Sower  and  the  Man  with  the  Hoe 

are  far  more  than  beautiful — they  hold   the  vast  emotions 

and   wondrous  sensations  of  man's   destiny  to   labour,   and 

of  man's  acceptance  of  that  destiny ;  they  utter  the  gloom 

and  the  ugliness  as  loudly  as  the  beauty  of  the  earth  and 

of  toil  ;   and  they  most  rightly  utter  these  things,  so  that 

they  take  equal  rank,  and  thereby  add  to  our  knowledge 

of  the  emotions  of  life  through  the   master's  power,  and 

the  skill  and  cunning  of  his  craftsmanship,  whereby  he  so 

solemnly  uttered  the  truth. 

Art  is  not  an  oil-painting  on  canvas  in  a  gilt  frame. 
Art  is  not  the  exclusive  toy  of  a  few  prigs — nor  the  pass- 
word of  a  cult.  Art  is  universal,  eternal — not  parochial. 
Every  man  is  an  artist  in  his  degree — every  man  is  moved 
by  art  in  his  degree.  For  one  act  of  our  day  to  which  we 
are  moved  by  reason,  we  are  moved  to  a  score  by  our 
emotions — by  instinct. 

5 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  If  the  artist's  revelation  of  life    be   true,  then   by  and 

DUCTION  through  his  art  we  live  the  emotions  of  life  ;  it  becomes 
a  part  of  our  life  for  ever.  If  the  revelation  be  ennobling, 
we  are  ennobled  ;  if  base,  we  are  debased  thereby. 

And  surely  it  is  a  splendid  thing  to  be  made  to  thrill 
with  the  higher  emotions  of  man  and  to  know  lofty  enthu- 
siasms !  The  brightest  path  by  which  man  may  reach  to 
great  goals  and  a  larger  concept  of  life  is  through  the  arts. 
Whether  by  the  oratory  of  the  Christ,  or  by  the  drama  of 
the  masters,  or  whatsoever  pathway,  the  road  that  reaches 
to  the  Splendid  Wayfaring  must  be  through  the  garden  of 
the  Arts. 

Whether  he  will  it  or  not,  every  man  must  walk  in  that 
garden  of  the  Arts. 

No  man  may  know  the  Splendid  Wayfaring  of  Life, 
nor  indeed  know  of  Life  outside  a  madhouse,  without  Art. 
Art  is  absolutely  necessary  to  all  civilised  life.  It  is  with  us 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  We  cannot  escape  it.  The 
moment  a  child  essays  to  tell  of  its  joy  or  its  pain,  its 
sorrows  or  its  delights,  at  once  Art  is  created. 

So  far  from  being  the  little  exclusive  preciosity  that  the 
so-called  Elect  pride  themselves  alone  on  understanding,  if 
you  would  realise  what  your  life  would  be  without  the 
means  to  commune  with  your  fellow-men  so  as  to  be 
partakers  of  their  sensations  and  their  emotions,  try  to  think 
of  a  man  in  that  awful  solitude  that  is  never  broken  by  con- 
tact with  any  other  human  soul  ;  and  you  scarce  exaggerate 
what  a  man's  punishment  would  be  without  the  arts. 

Now  it  follows  that  as  a  people  become  ignoble,  their 
utterance  of  life  becomes  ignoble,  therefore  their  art  becomes 
ignoble. 

There  has  ever  been  in  all  religions,  in  all  states,  a 
6 


OF  PAINTING 

tendency  of  narrow-eyed  men  to  a  curious  form  of  Puritan-  INTRO- 
ism  that  looks  askance  at  all  works  of  art  as  being  bad,  DUCTION 
because  bad  art  is  bad.  Whether  it  be  a  Savonarola  in  the 
Catholic  church  who  sets  the  people  in  hysterical  fervour 
to  burning  all  the  precious  works  of  art  in  the  bonfires  of 
the  public  market-place  ;  or  the  Roundheads  who  disfigure 
and  destroy  works  of  art  in  childish  wantonness  and  blatant 
vulgarity ;  whether  it  be  the  Mohammedan  who  denies  the 
human  figure  to  art  ;  or  what  not ;  yet,  so  vital  a  necessity 
is  art  to  the  human  being  in  his  wayfaring  to  the  heights 
and  majesty  of  sublime  living,  that  the  blackest  Puritans 
employ  it  even  whilst  they  destroy  it. 

The  Mohammedans  are  forbidden  the  carving  of  figures 
in  or  on  their  mosques;  forbidden  the  portraiture  of  men, 
lest  the  faithful  shall  fall  to  the  worship  of  images — yet  the 
True  Believer  flings  away  his  life  in  battle,  like  some  great 
bronze  god,  urged  to  it  by  the  emotional  oratory  of  his 
faith ;  and,  where  he  falls,  you  shall  ever  find  about  his 
neck,  worn  as  a  little  charm  to  keep  his  quaint  fantastic 
soul  from  harm,  sewn  into  exquisitely  wrought  leather- 
work,  fragments  of  the  mighty  literature  of  the  Koran  ! 
An  art  within  an  art  ! 

So  the  Roundheads,  thundering  against  the  arts  lest  they 
should  turn  men's  eyes  to  graven  images,  made  the  land 
hideous  with  sculptures  overthrown,  statues  mutilated,  works 
of  art  destroyed ;  yet,  even  as  they  committed  this  scandalous 
and  childish  wantonness,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  they 
listened  with  bowed  heads  of  reverence  to  works  of  fiction, 
some  amongst  the  supreme  works  of  art  the  world  has 
known — the  parables  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows — and  went 
into  battle  shouting  the  poetry  of  the  psalms,  their  nerves 
athrill  to  the  music  of  words  wrought  by  the  master-skill  of 
the  great  Elizabethan  translators  of  the  Bible  ! 

7 


INTRO-     II.   Wherein  is  attempted  a  survey  of  the  Art  of  Antiquity — and 
DUCTION  an  explanation  of  the  terms  Classic,  Byzantine,  Roman- 

esque, Gothic,  Renaissance,  and  Humanism. 

It  is  the  habit  of  the  professor  to  begin  his  theories  on 
art  by  some  such  statement  as  that  the  first  need  of  the 
human  being  was  to  clothe  himself,  and  fashion  tools  and 
weapons  and  shelter  against  the  fury  of  the  elements  and 
wild  nature — that  he  had  to  become  industrious  before  he 
became  an  artist. 

The  professor  says  this  because  he  mistakes  Art  to  be 
a  painting  on  a  canvas  in  a  gold  frame,  or  a  piece  of 
sculpture,  or  the  like.  In  such  case  his  platitudes  would  be 
true  enough.  As  a  matter  of  fact.  Art  was  as  overwhelming 
a  need  of  the  human  being  from  the  very  first  as  was  his 
need  for  industry.  Man,  as  an  intelligent  being,  has  created 
Art  from  the  beginning — probably  as  soon  as  he  discovered 
the  need  for  industry.  From  the  day  that,  having  stepped 
down  from  the  branch  of  a  tree  and  stood  up,  on  his  hind 
legs,  and  discovered  himself  the  Thinking  Thing,  Art  was 
at  its  dawning.  From  the  tree  to  his  wild  cave,  whence 
he  slowly  began  to  forgather  in  the  valley  to  his  tribal 
councils  against  wild  animals  and  other  enemies,  and  to 
rally  for  his  hunting  ;  from  the  moment  that  he  desired  com- 
munion with  his  fellows,  then  Art  was  born.  For,  just  as 
by  his  rude  speech  he  sought  communion  with  their 
thoughts,  so  by  means  of  his  rude  arts  he  essayed  to  make 
his  fellows  feel  what  he  had  felt  by  getting  to  their  senses 
what  his  own  senses  had  experienced. 

'Twas  like  enough  that  song  and  dance  and  the  telling 
of  tales  were  his  first  forms  of  art  ;  but  early  in  his  rude 
days  he  scratched  upon  the  reindeer's  bone  and  upon  the 
8 


PAINTING 


walls  of  his  cave  the  impressions  of  life  as  he  felt  them  ;     INTRO- 

and  decorated  himself  and  his  belongings  to  impress  others  DUCTION 

with  his  barbaric  dignities  and  ambitions.     And  just  as  in 

tale-telling  and  song  and  dance  he  roused  his  fellows  to  feel 

what  he  felt  ;  so  he  soon  came  to  putting  colours  upon  the 

rude  drawings  and  sculpturings  that  his  hand  essayed,  so  that 

his  fellows  should  feel  through  their  sense  of  vision  what 

his   own   eyes   experienced.     And  the  art  of  painting  was 

born. 

Therefore,  when  the  professors,  splitting  hairs,  tell  us 
that  art  has  this  difference  from  man's  other  activities,  in 
that  it  is  not  for  utility^  he  is  thinking  of  palaces  and 
gorgeous  paintings  in  elaborate  frames,  and  the  like  ;  but 
art  is  deeper  than  this,  and  is  not  only  an  utility  but  an 
absolute  necessity  of  life.  To  the  luxurious,  art  may  be 
made  a  luxury  ;  but  luxurious  art  is  not  the  highest  form 
of  art.  And  to  conceive  of  Art  as  a  luxury  or  a  diversion 
is  to  miss  its  whole  significance.  The  moment  Art  becomes 
a  luxury  or  a  mere  diversion  it  is  in  decay ;  and  the  signifi- 
cance has  gone  out  of  it.  One  might  as  wisely  say  that 
Cleopatra  dead  is  as  significant  as  Cleopatra  alive — the 
beautiful  body  is  there,  but  the  wondrous  miracle  has 
departed  from  it.  The  whole  falsity  about  art  is  created 
by  the  fact  that  the  professors  only  seem  to  discover  works 
of  art  when  they  are  in  decay. 

So,  it  is  likely  enough,  our  first  rude  ancestors  came  to 
apply  the  recording  of  their  emotions,  the  utterance  of  their 
sensations,  to  the  glorification  of  those  deep  and  awful  feel- 
ings of  man  that  seek  utterance  in  religion ;  and  the  carved 
and  moulded  gods  were  raised  upon  the  rude  altars  of  their 
fantastic  faiths,  and  colours  were  plastered  upon  wall  and 
god  and  idol  to  enhance  the  wild  emotions  of  awe  roused 
by  their  faith. 

VOL.   I B  V  9 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  For  painting,  mark  you,  was  not  of  necessity  a  flat  art, 

DUCTION  but  employed  in  the  round  as  well. 

Thence  through  the  Stone  Age,  when  man  knew  no 
metals,  but  lived  in  lake-dwellings,  and  built  the  mighty 
stone  blocks  upon  the  earth,  and  began  to  know  the  sowing 
of  corn  and  the  reaping  and  harvesting,  and  the  taming  of 
animals  that  went  to  make  his  flocks  and  herds,  and  forth- 
with discovered  flax  for  the  weaving  of  his  garments ;  thence 
he  came  to  the  moulding  of  gold  and  copper,  the  first  metals 
he  employed  ;  thence  to  tin  ;  on  until  he  discovered  how  to 
fuse  tin  and  copper  into  bronze,  which  thrust  him  forward  on 
his  upward  wayfaring  ;  until  he  stood  but  a  thousand  years 
before  the  coming  of  the  Christ,  the  arts  were  increasing 
with  the  increasing  range  of  man's  upward  striving. 

The  Egyptians,  long  before  they  used  bronze  and  iron, 
were  turning  pots  and  painting  them;  and  before  the 
Pharaohs  came,  bringing  to  the  banks  of  the  Nile  the  use  of 
metals,  Egypt  was  painting  the  human  figure  and  animals, 
in  rude  fashion.  The  Pharaohs  came  to  govern  the  land 
some  four  thousand  five  hundred  years  before  Christ,  and 
under  them  Egypt  became  the  first  people  of  the  earth  to 
raise  great  buildings  of  stone,  and  employed  therein  and  in 
sculpture  a  skill  that  has  never  been  surpassed.  And  the 
walls  of  their  ancient  tombs  were  wrought  with  paintings, 
essaying  to  utter  every  phase  of  life — royal  victories,  re- 
ligious adoration  and  rites,  the  acts  of  daily  life,  the  soul's 
journeying  to  the  place  of  the  dead.  Landscape  is  used  for 
backgrounds,  if  rude  enough  and  lacking  as  to  perspective. 
Painting  was  mere  colouring,  'tis  true,  without  sense  of  light 
and  shade.  But  to  the  Egyptian  the  vast  mystery  of  Eternity 
ever  loomed  before  all  else — for  Eternity  he  wrought  his 
arts,  whether  the  mighty  pyramids,  the  sculptured  sphinxes, 
and  vasty  temples ;  for  Eternity  he  embalmed  his  dead. 
lo 


OF   PAINTING 

Side  by  side  with  Egypt  the  Chaldeans  wrought  by  the  INTRO- 
waters  of  the  Tigris  and  Euphrates,  and  their  peoples,  the  DUCTION 
Babylonians  and  Assyrians,  after  them,  wrought  paintings 
and  coloured  friezes  glorifying  strength  and  power  and  brute 
force,  that  found  their  outlet  in  cruel  delights,  bloody 
butcheries  in  war,  brutal  revenges,  barbarous  huntings  and 
slayings.  And  it  was  from  Chaldasa — from  these  Assyrians 
— that  the  Greeks,  and  from  the  Greeks  the  modern  world, 
received  the  winged  bodies  of  men  and  animals  so  dear  to 
the  decorative  instinct  of  the  ages. 

It  was  in   Chaldaea  and  Egypt,  then,  that  what  art  of 
painting  there  was,  flourished  before  the  Greek. 

To  the  early  Greeks  came  the  aim  of  Beauty,  perfection 
of  form,  and  above  all  the  beauty  of  the  Human.  These 
early  Greeks  of  the  islands  and  sea-coasts  of  the  ^Egean 
created  a  civilisation  that  had  passed  and  was  but  a  memory 
when  Homer  struck  his  lyre  some  eight  hundred  years 
before  the  coming  of  the  Christ — three  thousand  years 
before  Salome  danced  before  Herod,  these  seafaring  folk  had 
been  using  copper,  which  they  found  in  large  quantities  in 
their  island  of  Cyprus — does  not  indeed  the  very  name  of 
copper  come  from  this  same  Kupros  ?  And  always  the 
aim  is  to  fashion  the  human  form — and  what  is  more,  the 
habit  of  Egypt  and  Chaldasa  is  swept  aside,  and  the  nude 
is  ever  in  the  vogue — the  very  jugs  and  the  jars  being 
modelled  on  the  human  design.  When  Troy  was  unburied, 
six  cities  deep,  one  upon  another,  the  painting  habit  appears 
in  the  sixth,  the  uppermost  buried  one,  vases  being  dis- 
covered with  paintings  upon  them,  as  Priam's  artists 
had  painted  them  before  Achilles  dragged  the  body  of 
Hector  round  the  walls  ;  whilst,  hard  by,  at  Tiryns,  a 
palace  revealed  its  walls  painted  and  decorated.  At  Cnossus, 
in  Crete,  in  that  '  Palace  of  the  Axe '  where  king  Minos 

II 


A    HISTORY 


INTRO-  ruled,  and  which  from  its  confusion  of  paths  and  passages 
DUCTION  gave  us  the  word  "labyrinth,"  is  much  painting  on  the  walls, 
and  wondrously  modern  in  feeling.  Thus  was  art  rapidly 
advancing  in  Mycenae  when  the  northern  barbarians  fell 
upon  and  swept  away  the  first  Greek  civilisation,  before 
Homer.  But  the  Greeks,  fleeing  before  the  onrush,  spread 
their  art  to  Chios  and  Cyprus  and  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor 
and  Syria — and  it  was  the  descendants  of  these  who,  after 
three  hundred  years,  took  back  to  the  barbarians  of  Greece 
the  seed  of  the  Renaissance  of  art  which  was  to  be  there 
planted  again  and  to  blossom  to  such  splendid  flowering. 

The  new  Greek  civilisation  advanced  with  giant  strides. 
Unlike  all  other  peoples  before  them  or  of  their  time,  the 
Greek  loved  liberty — he  looked  to  beauty  as  his  aim  in  life 
— and  the  earth  on  which  he  stood  held  the  stone  best 
fitted  for  his  artistry  :  marble  abounded  in  the  land,  and 
some  of  the  islands,  such  as  the  famed  Paros,  were  little 
else.  Liberty  was  in  his  blood,  it  was  his  very  instinct  ; 
progress  was  his  breath ;  and  the  human  entity  his  god. 
From  Egypt  and  Assyria  he  caught  the  fashioning  of 
sculpture,  but  soon  left  all  tradition  behind  in  his  aim  to 
glorify  the  human  in  marble.  Five  hundred  years  before 
the  Christ,  the  Greeks  were  sculpturing  winged  goddesses, 
the  woman  appears  in  natural  form,  and  the  smile  ripples 
across  the  face  of  the  human — and  not  only  does  the 
passing  mood  of  the  human  take  possession  of  the  face,  but 
the  figures  are  painted.  What  wall-paintings  there  were 
have  perished ;  but  the  earlier  vases  with  black  figures  and 
the  later  ones  with  red  figures  show  astounding  sense  of 
design.  Rapidly  the  arts  developed.  Pindar  sang;  and 
^schylus  wrote  his  tragedies  ;  and  soon  Myron  and 
Polyclitus  and  Phidias  were  creating  their  masterpieces, 
glorifying  human  beauty  and  athletic  strength  ;  with  the 

12 


OF    PAINTING 

figure  leaning  on  one  foot  instead  of  the  stolid  Egyptian  INTRO- 
and  Assyrian  art  that  ever  set  the  human  with  both  feet  DUCTION 
firm  planted  on  the  earth — and  the  ideal  woman  was  the 
Amazon  or  huntress.  So  it  came  that  Pericles,  the  lover 
of  the  beautiful,  and  dictator  of  beauty  as  of  all  else  to  the 
Greece  of  his  day,  called  Phidias  to  the  beautifying  of 
Athens,  raising  the  famed  Parthenon  upon  her  heights,  one 
of  the  achievements  of  the  ages.  Here  were  paintings 
upon  the  walls,  but  they  have  vanished,  as  has  the  gold  and 
ivory  statue  of  Athene,  the  masterpiece  of  Phidias.  Yet  one 
cannot  but  think  that  the  high  gifts  that  created  the  mighty 
masterpiece  of  the  Venus  of  Milo,  whether  wrought  immedi- 
ately after  Phidias  or  within  three  hundred  years  thereafter, 
must  have  been  highly  skilled  also  in  painting  forms. 

The  serene  temper  of  the  Greece  of  the  four  hundreds 
before  Christ  came  to  an  end  with  the  Peloponnesian  War 
which  Pericles  had  begun,  and  which,  twenty-five  years 
after  Pericles  died  of  the  plague,  saw  Athens  fall  in  404  B.C. 
The  disaster  that  saw  Athens  conquered  and  humiliated  by 
the  Spartans  roused  that  deep  religious  and  political  reaction 
which  sent  Socrates  to  his  death  in  399  B.C.  and  changed 
the  Greek  character.  Plato  carried  on  the  thought  of 
Socrates — and  Greece  knew  self-examination,  and  brooded 
upon  the  deep  problems  of  the  soul.  Adversity  taught  its 
lesson.  The  three  hundreds  before  Christ  were  years  of 
deep  meditation,  and  Art,  grappling  with  the  utterance  of 
the  new  emotions,  brought  forth  Praxiteles  and  Scopas,  and 
Praxiteles  created  the  beautiful  and  spiritual  head  of  his 
famed  Hermes.  Here  we  have  the  sculptor  ridding  his 
art  of  hardnesses,  employing  the  eff^ects  of  the  differences  of 
texture,  as  in  the  hair  and  flesh,  and  softening  the  edges  of 
the  flesh  until  a  painter's  sense  of  impressionism  in  light 
and   shade  diffuses  the   sculptured   surface   and  makes  the 

13 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  marble  live.  Therefrom  we  may  judge  that  painting  in 
DUCTION  Hellas,  lauded  by  the  ancient  writers  as  equal  to  her 
sculptures,  must  have  been  astounding — but  in  how  great 
degree  we  shall  never  know,  since  all  sign  of  these  wonders 
has  passed  away.  Yet  we  may  trust  the  ancient  writers, 
since  they  clearly  state  that  whilst  Polygnotus,  the  supreme 
painter  of  the  century  of  Phidias,  was  famed  for  his  drawing 
rather  than  for  his  colour,  the  masters  of  the  century  of 
Praxiteles  were  famed  as  colourists.  Parrhasius,  Zeuxis, 
and  Apelles,  therefore,  had  they  carried  painting  to  the 
degree  of  melting  their  light  and  shade  and  colour  as  far 
as  Praxiteles  had  softened  the  surfaces  of  his  sculptured 
marble,  must  have  reached  a  power  in  uttering  feeling  in 
painting  far  greater  than  any  primitive  painters  of  whatso- 
ever later  schools.  And  when  we  remember  how  Scopas 
went  even  beyond  the  emotional  statement  of  revery  of  the 
marbles  carved  by  Praxiteles,  and  gave  utterance  to  the 
passions  in  his  haunting  shadows  about  eyes  and  mouth,  it 
is  unlikely  that  the  painters  did  not  grasp  the  skill  with 
which  Scopas  modelled  those  wondrous  shadows.  'Tis  true 
a  younger  sculptor  than  these,  one  Lysippus,  essayed  to  put 
back  the  hands  of  Greek  art  by  a  reactionary  trying  back 
to  the  sterner  and  less  subtle  emotional  days  of  the  century 
of  Phidias,  mistaking  sentiment  for  sentimentality,  and 
fearing  effeminacy  and  sensuality ;  but  he  only  ran  to  the 
academic  by  trying  to  see  the  human  as  eight  heads  high, 
and  whilst  rejecting  emotion  to  the  degree  of  passion,  only 
ended  in  elegance,  refinement,  and  nervousness  in  the 
bronzes  which  he  preferred  to  cast  instead  of  employing 
the  marble  preferred  by  Praxiteles  and  Scopas  ;  Lysippus 
was  sculptor  to  Alexander  the  Great,  and  his  mastery  of 
drapery  strongly  suggests  the  influence  of  the  painters.  But 
it  is   in   the   greatest   draped   statue  in   movement  left  by 


OF   PAINTING 

antiquity,  the  famed  winged  Nike  {Victory)   of  Samothrace^     INTRO- 
poised  on  the  prow  of  a  galley,  her  robes  fluttering  in  the  DUCTION 
breeze,   that   the    influence  of  Scopas   is   seen  in   supreme 
fashion ;  and  the  influence  of  great  painting  is  astoundingly 
suggested  in  the  years  on   the   eve   of  the   two   hundreds 
before  Christ. 

The  year  of  336  B.C.  struck;  and  its  striking  was  full  of 
a  strange  destiny  for  the  wide  world.  Young  Alexander,  a 
youth  of  twenty,  stepped  to  his  father's  throne  in  Macedonia, 
and  began  his  short,  swift,  all-compelling  and  wondrous 
career.  Swiftly  he  laid  waste  Thebes,  overwhelmed 
Athens,  moved  out  across  the  face  of  the  world  with  his 
conquering  Greeks,  overthrowing  kings,  marching  from 
victory  to  victory  through  Asia  Minor,  on  through  Syria, 
winning  Egypt,  overthrowing  Persia,  and  sweeping  over 
the  north  of  India — to  die  in  Babylon  at  thirty-three  1 
The  conquered  world  fell  to  his  generals,  and  the  Greek 
order  stood  supreme  from  the  waters  of  the  Nile  to  the 
far  Indus.  To  India  she  gave  her  lesson  in  the  arts,  that 
had  begun  to  dawn  out  of  Persia.  From  Greece  the  art  of 
painting  passed  into  India  with  Alexander  the  Great ;  and 
later  on  to  China,  whither  bastard  Greek  art  spread  from 
the  Black  Sea  through  Siberia  and  Central  Asia  in  our  own 
"  mediaeval "  days  some  hundred  years  after  Christ. 

But  the  Greek  thought  and  the  Greek  art  passed  out 
of  Athens  and  spread  over  the  conquered  lands — and  made 
their  throne  in  Alexandria  with  the  Ptolemies,  in  Syrian 
Antioch,  and  in  Pergamum  in  Asia  Minor.  The  small 
Greek  states,  with  their  free  cities,  now  became  oriental 
monarchies  under  absolute  tyrants.  These  two  hundred 
years,  from  the  death  of  Alexander  to  the  conquest  by  Rome 
are  spoken  of  by  the  academic  as  a  decadence.  They  were 
instead  a  forward  moving  of  the  human  soul.     The  ancient 

15 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  spirit  of  Greece  was  gone,  it  is  true  ;  but  a  new  and 
DUCTION  compelling  spirit  was  abroad.  Greek  art,  faced  now  by 
the  tumult  and  anguish  of  the  human  soul  amidst  the 
chaos  of  change,  uttered  Itself  In  heroic  admiration  of  pity 
for  the  sufferings  of  man.  Heretofore,  art  had  evaded 
character ;  portraiture  was  now  born.  At  Pergamum  and 
Rhodes  and  Alexandria,  the  Greek  artist  began  to  look 
upon  the  barbarians  as  fit  subjects  for  sympathy  and  wonder, 
and  the  Gaul  Slaying  Himself  after  Slaying  his  Wife,  and  The 
Dying  Gaul  [Gladiator)  were  created,  in  which  last  the 
Greek  sculptor,  Epigonus,  shows  the  pathos  of  the  brave 
fellow  whose  blood  ebbs  from  him  as  he  lies  far  away  from 
his  *'  small  barbarians  at  play."  This  emotional  statement 
of  the  agonies,  that  would  have  shocked  the  earlier  Greeks, 
perhaps  best  known  to  literature  through  the  fame  of 
Laocoon  and  his  Sons,  greatly  enlarged  the  province  and 
realm  of  art,  and  Increased  its  function  and  significance, 
thereby  adding  to  the  breadth  of  its  appeal.  It  is  a 
merely  childish  and  academic  thing  to  compare  one  phase 
of  art  with  the  art  of  another  age  ;  for  art  has  no  concern 
with  such  things.  The  art  of  The  Dying  Gaul  and  of  the 
Laocoon  is  concerned  with  another  phase  of  the  human 
emotions  than  that  of  older  Greece.  Pity  and  the 
significance  of  suffering  have  now  forced  themselves  as  a 
significance  upon  the  human  feelings,  where  before  was 
little  or  none.  The  technical  powers  of  the  artists  may 
not  be  as  astounding  as  those  of  a  Phidias,  a  Praxiteles,  or 
a  Scopas,  but  there  Is  freedom  from  the  mere  imitation  of 
their  skill  of  hand  as  there  Is  from  slavery  to  their  thought 
and  intention.  And  there  are  qualities  dawning  which  are 
to  ripen  in  after  centuries  Into  majestic  achievement — life 
is  looked  full  in  the  face,  character  and  truth  stand  forth, 
and  landscape  receives  homage. 
i6 


OF  PAINTING 

The  masterpieces  of  the  great  Greek  painters  are  but  a  INTRO- 
legend.  But  the  Romans,  as  they  made  their  conquests  in  DUCTION 
Greece,  brought  back  a  taste  for  Greek  works  of  art,  and 
were  early  attracting  Greek  artists  to  Rome.  The  empire 
increased  the  collecting  of  Greek  works.  In  Pompeii  and 
Herculaneum,  two  seaside  pleasure  resorts,  overwhelmed  by 
Vesuvius  in  the  year  79  after  Christ,  have  been  found  a  goodly 
number  of  wall-paintings  which,  allowing  for  the  second- 
rate  taste  that  would  prevail  in  a  pleasure-resort  not  too  famous 
for  the  nobility  of  its  high  living  or  aims,  prove  a  wide  and 
remarkable  activity  in  painting.  And  from  Egypt  have  come 
the  famous  portraits  in  encaustic  painting  from  the  first  cen- 
turies of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  known  as  the  encaustic  por- 
traits of  the  Grsco-Roman  period,  which  show  high  artistry. 

Now,  it  is  well  to  note  that  whilst  Rome  took  much 
from  the  tradition  of  ancient  Greece,  she  also  had  latent 
artistic  gifts  which  were  created  partly  out  of  the  Italian 
soil,  and  partly  out  of  the  Eastern  Mediterranean  whence 
she  largely  came.  She  built  temples,  baths,  triumphal 
arches,  columns,  and  the  like,  which  had  no  outside  in- 
fluence. The  "  arenas  "  or  circuses,  such  as  the  Coliseum, 
were  new.  She  employed  the  dome  and  the  arch,  of  which 
Greece  knew  nothing — but  which  came  to  Rome  out  of 
Assyria  and  the  East,  and  thereby  produced  Romanesque 
architecture,  and  thereby  partly  produced  Byzantine.  Her 
sculpture  never  reached  to  Greek  heights;  but  her  archi- 
tecture took  on  the  vastness  of  Eastern  ambitions  ;  and  the 
sculpture  of  the  Empire  at  least  put  forth  strength  in 
character  and  thereby  produced  fine  portraiture.  In  paint- 
ing there  was  latent  genius,  and  some  of  the  paintings  at 
Pompeii  show  an  astounding  affinity  to  the  French  work  of 
the  seventeen  hundreds  ;  whilst,  in  the  catacombs,  Christian 
art  had  its  beginnings. 

VOL.  I — c  17 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  Throughout  the  Middle  Ages,  the  innate  Italian  im- 

DUCTION  petus  towards  Realism  in  painting  struggled  hard  to  evolve 
itself  against  the  Byzantine-Greek  spirit  that  ever  threatened 
from  the  East ;  but  it  was  not  until  the  close  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  in  the  thirteen  hundreds,  that  at  last  Italian  Realism 
shook  off  the  Eastern  pattern  of  Byzantine,  crept  out  over  the 
land,  and,  fired  by  the  Gothic  realism  of  France,  dawned  in 
the  Renaissance. 

To  get  a  thorough  grip  upon  the  fact  of  the  Renaissance, 
it  is  well  to  understand  exactly  what  is  meant  by  Byzantine. 
The  early  Christian  paintings  were  made  by  a  persecuted 
people  who,  to  practise  their  religion,  had  to  meet  together 
in  the  underground  tunnels,  called  catacombs,  of  Rome, 
where  they  also  buried  their  dead.  These  catacombs  were 
the  church  and  burial-place  of  the  early  Christians  from 
about  one  hundred  years  to  about  four  hundred  years  after 
Christ. 

When  Christianity  came  above  ground  and  became  the 
religion  of  the  State,  burial  and  worship  also  came  to  the 
surface. 

Now  the  chief  craft  employed  in  the  catacombs  was 
painting  ;  thus  Christianity  was  destined  to  produce  a 
great  achievement  in  painting  from  its  very  beginnings. 
Sculpture  in  the  round  was  repugnant  to  the  early  Christians, 
as  being  the  craft  employed  in  making  the  gods  of  their 
pagan  masters,  and  thereby  associated  with  the  worship  of 
idols  ;  and  even  in  painting,  the  same  intention  created  a 
repugnance  to  representing  their  own  God — indeed,  even 
the  crucified  Christ  only  began  to  be  treated  in  the  art  of 
the  catacombs  towards  the  very  end.  Symbols  arose,  such 
as  the  peacock  for  eternity  ;  but,  except  that  painting 
shrank  from  the  nude,  and  created  certain  symbols  and 
i8 


OF    PAINTING 

motives  in  the  spirit  of  its  own  revelation,  the  painters  all  INTRO- 
along  employed  pagan  imagery  and  forms,  and  you  shall  DUCTION 
find  in  their  design  the  Orpheus,  Cupids,  the  Medusa  head, 
and  the  like  paganisms,  just  as  the  state  Christianity  later 
took  from  paganism  its  pagan  altars  and  symbols,  such  as 
the  lights  ;  whilst  the  style  and  treatment  are  akin  to  the 
wall-paintings  of  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum. 

Byzantium  (Constantinople)  became  the  capital  of 
Eastern  Christendom  in  330  after  Christ.  The  Roman 
Court  went  to  Ravenna,  on  the  east  side  of  Italy,  in  404. 
About  500  Theodoric,  the  king  of  the  Goths,  settled  his 
residence  thereat,  and  from  some  thirty  to  forty  years  there- 
after, for  more  than  two  centuries,  Ravenna  belonged  to 
Byzantium — thus  the  spirit  of  Byzantium  (Constantinople) 
hung  upon  the  edge  of  Italy. 

Now,  when  Christianity  arose  from  its  underground  life 
in  the  catacombs,  and  came  to  the  surface,  it  built  for  itself, 
or  took  possession  of,  the  large  marts  or  places  of  assembly, 
a  long  rectangular  hall,  flat-roofed,  often  with  side  aisles, 
and  called  a  basilica — just  as  to-day  it  might  take  for  use 
the  town-hall ;  for  the  Christian  church  was  a  place  of 
assembly  for  worship,  differing  vastly  therein  from  the 
pagan  temple,  which  was  the  place  of  residence  of  the  god. 

To  this  square,  flat-roofed  Italian  basilica,  the  Eastern 
spirit  of  the  Christian  church  at  Byzantium  brought  the 
domed  roofing  of  the  East  ;  of  which  the  world-famed 
church  of  St.  Sophia  in  Constantinople  is  the  great 
example — built  in  the  mid  five  hundreds  by  Asiatic  archi- 
tects, and  for  long  the  cathedral  of  the  Eastern  Christians, 
until  Constantinople  fell  to  the  Turks  in  1453,  when  in 
Italy  the  Renaissance  was  in  its  full  flowering.  Now,  we 
have  already  seen  the  Romans  of  the  Empire  employing 
the  dome,  as  in  the  Pantheon.     But  the  Byzantine  art  held 

19 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  the  love  of  sumptuous  splendour  of  colouring,  brought  from 
DUCTION  the  East  ;  and  concerned  itself  with  gorgeous  colouring  and 
much  use  of  gold  and  gilding — its  whole  spirit  was  Asiatic 
and  luxurious,  and  shows  its  design  in  the  oriental  carpet,  far 
removed  from  the  severe  achievement  of  Greek  and  Roman 
art — it  abhors  the  human  figure,  and  concerns  itself  with 
geometrical  and  conventional  pattern.  This  orientalised 
art  of  the  Eastern  Christianity  of  Byzantium  was  further 
accentuated  by  the  fanatical  movement  of  the  ascetic  Icono- 
clasts (Image-Breakers)  in  the  seven  and  eight  hundreds, 
when,  throughout  the  Eastern  world  of  Christianity,  vast 
numbers  of  works  of  art  were  destroyed  as  tending  towards 
idolatry.  The  sculptors  and  artists  fled  west,  and  many 
reached  the  court  of  Charlemagne  at  Aix-la-Chapelle.  On 
the  overthrow  of  the  Iconoclasts  about  850,  the  arts  had 
a  mighty  renaissance  in  the  Byzantine  Empire,  lasting 
throughout  the  nine  hundreds  and  much  of  the  ten 
hundreds,  until  about  the  years  that  William  the  Conqueror 
came  to  rule  over  us  in  the  West.  This  great  Byzantine 
achievement,  in  arms  and  general  prosperity  and  intellect, 
saw  much  painting  on  parchment  and  enamelling,  besides 
superb  goldsmith's  work  ;  but  its  chief  glory  was  in  the 
mosaic.  Yet  its  theatricality,  its  poverty  of  means  to  utter 
art,  and  its  rigid  and  hidebound  limits,  could  not  be  wholly 
hidden  under  its  love  of  sumptuous  splendour  of  colouring  ; 
and  it  early  became  petrified  even  in  its  majestic  intention. 
Then  the  Arab  invasion  swept  across  the  sea  out  of  Asia, 
overthrowing  the  Eastern  Christianity,  but  stealing  much 
of  its  art,  and  creating  the  elaborate  patterns  that  are  called 
arabesques.  To  Russia  the  Byzantine  art  fled,  and  lives  to 
this  day  in  her  church  and  religion.  To  Southern  Italy  also 
Byzantium  was  long  dictator;  she  dominated  Ravenna  in 
Eastern  Italy,  and  her  vast  wealth,  her  wide-ranging  com- 
20 


OF   PAINTING 

merce,  and  her  sumptuous  splendour  appealed   to  Venice,     INTRO- 

which  built  in   iioo  her  famous  Byzantine  Church  of  St.  DUCTION 

Mark's  ;    and   even   the   artistry  of  mediaeval   Europe   was 

tinged  with  the  Byzantine  spirit.     The  pomp  and  splendour 

of  the  Byzantine,  hiding  its  emptiness  of  high  emotion  and  a 

noble  feeling  under  a  gorgeous  formality,  threatened  to  fall 

on   Italy,  standing   ghoul-like,  a   nightmare  ever  looming 

upon  her  Eastern  frontiers,  to  be  dissolved  and  banished  at 

last  by  the  innate  love  of  truth  and  reality  latent  in  the  soil 

of  Italy,  that  found  its  mouthpiece  at  last  in  Duccio  and 

Giotto,  who  found  a  new  revelation  in  art,  seeing  life  with 

fresh  eyes,  and  seeking  skill  of  hand  to  state  what  they  saw, 

thereby  bringing  the  mighty  re-birth  of  the    Renaissance 

into  the  land. 

Whilst  the  Eastern  Christian  church  was  developing 
Byzantinism,  the  Western  Christian  church,  after  Charle- 
magne's death,  proceeded  to  build  upon  its  basilicas  the 
domed  roof,  and  to  add  the  towers  of  what  is  called 
Romanesque  architecture.  The  Romanesque  in  turn  gave 
way  to  the  Gothic.  Now,  the  large  wall  spaces  of  the  heavily 
built,  round-arched,  Romanesque  churches  did  not  call  out 
for  painting,  since  they  were  ill  lit  ;  whilst  the  pointed- 
arched,  high,  widely  fretted  and  fragile  tracery  of  the 
Gothic  architecture,  nearly  all  windows  and  little  wall 
space,  did  not  leave  room  for  wall  paintings.  Thus  wall- 
painting,  so  intrinsic  an  art  of  early  Christianity  in  the 
catacombs,  fell  away  when  Christianity  came  out  of  the 
earth  and  built  her  domed  basilicas  of  the  Romanesque 
period,  and  later  her  many-windowed  fretted  traceries  of 
the  Gothic  years.  But  the  Gothic  windows  had  to  be 
filled  in  with  glass  ;  and  this  glass  came  to  be  beautifully 
coloured — creating  the  great  Gothic  art  of  glass-painting, 
the  bright  colouring  of  which  had  so  profound  an  influence 

21 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  upon  the  painting  of  the  Renaissance.  Side  by  side  with 
DUCTION  this  glass-painting  went  the  exquisite  illumination  of 
manuscripts.  The  Gothic  had  also  another,  a  vital,  quality 
that  raised  it  above  the  Romanesque — it  rejected  con- 
vention and  went  to  nature  for  its  sculpturing — so  that  you 
shall  find  recorded  on  Gothic  architecture  the  fulness  of  life 
as  the  Middle  Ages  knew  it  ;  the  moods  of  the  passing 
seasons,  the  life  of  the  fields,  or  the  life  of  the  craftsman 
and  of  the  buyers,  and  of  the  warrior  and  the  like.  The 
aim  of  Gothic  art  is  not  beauty  nor  pleasure,  but  to  teach. 
It  is  true  that  the  teaching  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  austere 
enough,  concerned  more  with  the  harsh  and  greyer  virtues 
of  the  fear  of  damnation  rather  than  with  the  tender 
humanities,  appealing  to  the  reason  rather  than  to  the 
heart — an  age  in  which  the  poet,  such  as  Dante,  brooded 
on  hells  and  punishments,  and  saw  life  a  sombre  affair — an 
age  when  "  opinions,"  except  such  as  the  Church  approved, 
meant  burning  at  the  stake  or  the  like  hellishness. 

But  out  of  Gothic  art  was  born  the  glorification  of 
character — the  great  art  of  portraiture — in  those  recumbent 
effigies  of  the  dead,  lying  carved  in  stone  upon  their  tombs. 
The  nude  is  almost  wholly  absent  ;  and,  strange  to  say, 
whether  in  carving  or  aught  else,  Gothic  art  failed  to 
create  a  Christ,  even  an  infant  Christ,  of  supreme  achieve- 
ment. 

At  last  the  Renaissance  dawned  over  Italy  and  France 
and  Flanders.  Re-birth  it  truly  was  not,  for  Art  never  dies. 
But  a  new  spirit  was  passing  across  the  face  of  Europe. 
Life,  and  with  it  Art,  was  evolving,  stepping  to  further 
fulfilment.  And  Humanism  was  lagely  responsible  for  it. 
The  Church  had  been  teacher  since  Rome  fell  ;  but  she 
had  become  alarmed  at  her  own  teaching,  and  was  harshly 
punishing  all  such  teaching  as  she  did  not  herself  approve. 

22 


OF   PAINTING 

It  was   too  late.     Humanism,  an  inquisitive  eagerness  to     INTRO- 
dip  into  the  history  and  arts  and  achievement  of  antiquity,  DUCTION 
above  all,  the  grandeur  of  Greece,  arose  to  bring  a  splendid 
discontent  to  men. 

Just  as  the  Greek  fugitives,  before  the  Homeric  years, 
had  fled  to  the  south  carrying  their  ancient  arts  with  them, 
and  these  arts  had  returned  again  in  after  centuries  to  the 
barbarian  conquerors  of  Greece,  and  created  the  Greek 
masters  ;  so  in  the  thirteen-hundreds,  at  the  ending  of  the 
Middle  Ages  called  Dark,  the  descendants  of  the  old 
Roman  days  of  greatness,  inspired  by  the  Greeks,  brought 
back  to  Italian  soil  the  traditions  of  a  pagan  and  heroic 
past,  and  planted  the  same  in  Florence  and  Rome,  to  the 
fertilising  and  blossoming  and  fruition  of  the  Renaissance. 

The  state  of  the  art  of  painting  from  the  decline  of 
Hellenic  art  in  the  years  of  Christ  to  the  end  of  the  Dark 
Ages,  is  perhaps  best  grasped  by  taking  such  portraits  from 
mummy-cases  as  were  discovered  in  Egypt  by  Professor 
Flinders  Petrie,  and  now  in  the  National  Gallery  in  London, 
wherein  we  see  the  Grseco-Roman  protraiture  of  the  first 
two  or  three  hundred  years  after  Christ,  if  not  of  the  days 
of  Christ — these  are  in  the  wax  medium  of  ancient  Greece 
known  as  "  encaustic  " — and  then  looking  upon  the  painting 
of  a  Tuscan  painter,  working  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Florence  at  the  end  of  the  Dark  Ages  a  thousand  years 
afterwards,  when  Christianity,  come  above  ground  from 
its  hiding-places,  had  taken  to  itself  much  of  the  pagan 
thought  and  forms  and  had  absorbed  them,  and  had,  for  its 
decorative  symbols,  developed  Byzantine  formality  into  such 
splendour  as  the  rigid  forms  and  bright  colouring  of  mosaic 
yielded.  This  glowing  but  stiff  formalism  of  Byzantine 
decoration,  whether  in  the  "  miniatures,"  as  the  illumina- 
tions of  its  elaborate  documents  are  called,  or  in  its  richly 

23 


A   HISTORY 


INTRO-  coloured,  much  be-gilt  mosaics,  was  wholly  given  up  to 
DUCTION  the  service  of  the  Church,  which  ever  grew  in  power ; 
and,  as  it  so  increased,  the  Church  demanded  increasing 
splendour  to  impose  upon  the  mind  of  man  ;  and  just  as 
the  religion  of  the  Church  set  into  a  splendid  formality 
and  elaborate  convention,  so  the  Byzantine  art  set  with  it, 
and  answered  to  it  astounding  well  ;  and  exactly  as  the 
Church  strangled  all  individual  thought  and  action,  so  the 
Byzantine  art,  with  its  narrow  scope,  suited  the  Church 
which  it  adorned  and  expressed  with  rigorous  narrowness 
and  sumptuous  splendour,  uttered  in  formal  schemes  which 
strangled  all  individual  statement  and  repeated  set  forms. 
Byzantium  sent  forth  her  painters  throughout  Italy  and 
the  wide  Christian  world,  and  set  her  vogue  upon  Italy. 
And  we  shall  find  in  Tuscany,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Florence,  at  the  end  of  the  Dark  Ages,  on  the  edge  of  the 
dawn  of  the  Renaissance,  no  better  example  of  the  Byzan- 
tine art  than  in  such  a  painter  as  the  Tuscan  Margaritone 
d'Arezzo,  or  di  Magnano,  born  about  1216,  and  dying  in 
1293,  °"  ^^^  ^^^  of  the  thirteen  hundreds. 

MARGARITONE 

1216  -  1293 
Magaritone,  painter,  sculptor,  and  architect,  shows  in 
his  Madonna  and  Child,  with  scenes  from  the  Lives  of  the 
Saints,  no  hint  of  the  new  spirit  of  the  coming  art  of 
the  Renaissance.  The  Virgin  is  a  swarthy  Roman-Greek, 
the  Child-Christ  a  manikin — all  is  formal  convention — 
the  infant,  like  all  else,  must  not  commit  the  sin  of  being 
like  nature.  The  decoration  is  a  pattern-like  scheme — 
the  Virgin  and  Child  in  an  almond-shape,  with  four  small 
pictures  on  each  side,  as  though  taken  from  a  Byzantine 
"  miniature  " ;  over  all  is  the  manner  of  Byzantium,  or,  as 

24 


MARGARITONE 
1216?       -        1293 

TUSCAN  SCHOOL 

"THE  VIRGIN  AND  CHILD,  WITH  SCENES  FROM 
THE  LIVES  OF  THE  SAINTS" 

(National  Gallery) 

In  tlie  centre  is  seated  the  Virgin  holding  before  her  on  her  lap  the 
Christ,  who  blesses  in  the  Greek  manner.  The  Virgin  is  placed  in  a 
raandorla.     On  either  side  are  : 

1.  The  Nativity. 

2.  St.  John  the  Evangelist  liberated  by  Angels  from  the  caldron  of 

boiling  oil. 

3.  The  Martyrdom  of  St.  Catherine  and   her   Burial   on   Mount 

Sinai. 

4.  St.  Nicholas  exhorting  the  Sailors  to  throw  overboard  a  vase  of 

oil  given  to  them  by  the  Devil. 

5.  St.  John  raising  Drusiana. 

6.  St.  Benedict,  haunted  by  the  recollection  of  a  beautiful  woman 

he  had  seen  in  Rome,  plunging  himself  into  a  thicket  of 
briars  and  nettles  to  mortify  the  flesh. 

7.  St.  Nicholas  preventing  the  execution  of  three  innocent  men. 

8.  St.   Margaret  swallowed  and  disgorged  again  by  the  Dragon, 

unhurt. 

The  picture  bears  the  signature,  in  Latin,  of  the  artist :  "  Margaritone 
of  Arezzo  made  me." 

Painted  in  tempera  on  linen  affixed  to  wood.  2  ft.  9  in.  h.  x  5  ft.  9  in.  w. 
(C-839X  1-753). 


1 


OF   PAINTING 

the  Italians  called  it,  Alia  Greca.     The  thing  is  scarce  a     INTRO- 
work  of  art  at  all,  but  rather  sumptuous  craftsmanship —  DUCTION 
the  artist  essays  to  state  little  that  he  has  sensed  through 
his   own   vision.     Yet   Margaritone  was  one   of  the   most 
distinguished  of  Tuscan  painters  of  his  age,  and  one  of  the 
earliest  painters  of  Italy. 

CIMABUE 

1240 .''  -  1302 

Of  a  generation  later  than  Margaritone,  but  working 
within  Margaritone's  years,  in  Florence  hard  by  to  the 
south-west,  was  Giovanni  Cenni  de'  Pepi,  more  famous  as 
CiMABUE.  Born  about  1240,  and  dying  in  1302,  Cimabue 
was  for  long  acclaimed  '  the  father  of  modern  painting ' ; 
and  a  famous  altar-piece,  said  to  have  been  painted  by  this 
Florentine,  and  known  as  the  Rucellai  Madonna^  at  S.  Maria 
Novella  in  Florence,  was  long  held  to  have  been  borne  in 
procession  through  Florence  amidst  public  rejoicing  ;  but 
research  has  proved  that,  so  far  from  this  altar-piece  being 
by  Cimabue,  it  was  painted  by  a  painter  of  Siena,  one 
Duccio,  and  that  Cimabue  worked  in  mosaic  in  the 
Byzantine  manner,  no  painting  by  his  brush  being  known. 
However  that  may  be,  Cimabue,  alas,  neither  painted  the 
Rucellai  Madonna  nor  was  it  carried  in  public  procession, 
as  we  shall  see.  The  pretty  story  is  due  to  the  gossip  of 
Vasari  in  later  years,  the  Florentine  historian  of  the  lives 
of  the  Italian  painters,  who  but  filched  another  city's 
credit  and  another  painter's  glory  to  bring  fame  to  his 
own  Florence.  The  legend  of  Cimabue's  altar-piece  rests 
solely  on  the  witness  of  Vasari,  who  filched  the  incident 
from  the  undoubted  and  fully  recorded  incident  of  the  rival 
city  of  Siena.  Yet  it  is  with  some  regret  that  one  parts 
from  the  pretty  old  legend  of  that  Rucellai  Madonna,  set 
VOL.  I — D  25 


A    HISTORY 


INTRO-  up  amidst  public  rejoicing  in  the  dark  transept  of  S.  Maria 
DUCTION  Novella,  hard  by  the  garden  where  the  youths  and  maidens 
met  on  that  Tuesday  morning  in  the  year  of  the  Plague, 
sitting  round  about  Boccaccio  to  hearken  to  tales  that  should 
keep  their  minds  from  the  death  that  stalked  the  streets  of 
the  stricken  city  without.  But  the  city's  records  contain 
no  hint  of  the  gift,  or  painting,  or  public  procession  ;  and 
the  city's  records  are  very  full.  No  such  important  event 
could  have  passed  by  unrecorded. 

Dante  writes  of  Cimabue  as  a  painter,  'tis  true ;  but 
his  phrase  rather  points  to  the  fact  that  Cimabue's  artistry 
was  as  purely  Byzantine  as  that  of  Magaritone.  "  Cimabue," 
says  Dante,  "  thought  to  hold  the  field  in  painting,  but 
to-day  Giotto  is  hailed  by  the  public."  A  new  art  had 
arisen — Cimabue's  style,  once  in  the  fashion,  had  departed 
— a  new  style  had  taken  its  place. 

Cimabue,  the  last  of  the  great  Byzantine  painters, 
seems,  however,  to  have  been  the  master  of  Giotto,  the 
first  great  Florentine  painter  of  the  Renaissance  ;  but  the 
gulf  between  these  two  generations  of  master  and  pupil 
yawns  wide  indeed. 

So  far,  the  Byzantine  painters  had  only  seen  flat — they 
only  attempted  to  set  figures  on  the  flat  surface  of  the 
wall  as  flat  decorations,  with  height  and  breadth  but  without 
depth.  The  New  Art,  about  to  come  into  Italy,  was  to  see 
the  figure  as  a  rounded  thing — was  to  try  and  make  the 
flat  painted  surface  yield  the  illusion  of  depth,  as  of  things 
seen  in  a  flat  mirror. 

But  even  as  Margaritone  wrought  in  tempera,  upon  the 

linen  fixed  to  a  panel,  his  swarthy  Roman-Greek  Virgin 

with  her  Child,  and  signed  upon  it,  "  Margaritone  of  Arezzo 

made   me,"  the  fairy   Prince  of  Gothic   Art   had   stepped 

26 


OF    PAINTING 

across  the  Alps  of  the  North,  and,  passing  by  him,  kissed     INTRO- 

the  Princess  of  Italian  realism  as  she  lay  in  her  long  sleep ;  DUCTION 

and    she   awoke    to    find    herself  a   new   creature,   a-thrill 

with  a  strange  wonder,  for  the  virtue  of  the  North  had 

gone  out  to  her,  and  her  blood  tingled  with  the  spirit  of 

northern  romance.     For  the  feet  of  the  Prince  had  trodden 

the  green  fields  and  woodlands  of  France;  his  apparel  was 

fragrant  of  the  fresh  winds  that  blew  across  the  face  of 

the  world  ;  his  eyes  had  seen   the   blue  heavens  and  had 

mirrored   the  grey  clouds,  and  gazed  upon  the  hills  and 

waters  of  the   Rhine.     In  his  ears  was  the  music  of  the 

voices  of  men  and  women ;  and  his  arms  had  held  children 

that  were  mere  babes.     He  had  walked  amidst  adventures, 

and  to  him  the  hot-house  languor  of  the  East  was  but  a 

sultry  weariness  of  days.     He  had  faced  life,  and  gloried 

in  the  pursuit  of  it.     And  he  had  seen  that  God's  heaven 

was   blue   as   lapis-lazuli,  and  that  the   miles   of  air  were 

between,   bathing    the    world    in    wondrous    radiance    and 

casting  an  indefinable  glamour  over  all  things  ;    that  the 

heavens  were   not   made  of  cubes   of  gilt  glass   or  stones 

set  into  rigid  patterns,  but  were  aerial,  and  filled  with  the 

living  breath  of  nature.     Thus,  redolent  of  life,  the  North 

stooped  and  kissed  Italy  upon  the  mouth  ;  and  she  arose, 

with  a   long-drawn   sigh,   and   burst   into   song — and   that 

song  pedantic  men  call   the   Renaissance,  that  had  better 

been  called  the  Awakening. 


27 


THE    DAWN    OF    MODERN    PAINTING 


THE   RENAISSANCE   IN 
CENTRAL   ITALY 


CHAPTER    I 

OF  THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY 

In   Italy,   and   in   France   on   that   side   that   lies   hard  by  THE  DAWN 
northern  Italy,  as  well  as  in  northern  France,  where  she  OF 
reaches  to  the  flood  of  the  Rhine,  there  began  to  dawn  in  MODERN 
the  twelve  hundreds  a  new  meaning  in  life,  a  new  revelation  PAINTING 
of  the  significance  of  life ;    and  with  the  dawn  was  to  be 
created    what    is    somewhat    foolishly    called   a   re-birth,   a 
Renaissance,   of  the   arts — for   the   arts   evolve,   as    all  life 
evolves,  and  dead  things  are  re-born  never.     There  was  at 
any  rate  a  new-found  intimacy  with  nature  ;  men  began  to 
see  life  freshly;   and  there  followed  a  marked  outburst  of 
artistry  which  sounded  a  new  note. 

In  France  the  Gothic  arts  had  developed  a  keen  effort 
to  express  the  reality  of  living  things.  The  character  of  all 
Gothic  art  had  been  its  direct  inspiration  from,  and  its 
affectionate  intimacy  with,  nature.  It  had  concerned  itself 
with  teaching  ;  and  Gothic  architecture  is  covered  with 
ornament  intensely  interested  in  all  that  was  known  and 
felt  of  nature.  The  mediaeval  church  was  the  school  of 
mediaeval  Europe. 

As  the  mediaeval  years  ran  out,  everywhere,  on  all  sides, 
was  a  strange  stirring  in  men's  hearts — everywhere  amongst 
the  Gothic  peoples  was  this  sense  of  awakening — every- 
where men  were  thinking  and  seeing  and  stating  what  they 
saw  in  a  manner  that  the  world  had  never  before  known. 
The  Dark  Ages  were  near  spent.  The  nations  were  arising. 
The  air  was  redolent  of  the  coming  of  Spring. 

31 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN         Now,  as  this  Gothic  interest  in  nature,  in  the  joy  of  life, 
OF  stole  into   Italy,   and,  like  the  Prince  of  Faery,   stealthily 

MODERN  makingits  way  through  the  briery  woods  and  thorn-entangled 
PAINTING  ways  of  scholasticism  and  Byzantinism,  came  to  the  sleeping 
Princess,  and  kissing  Italy  upon  the  mouth,  awoke  Italian 
realism  from  its  long  slumber,  and  set  astir  a  new  life  in  the 
land,  it  so  chanced  that  there  came  to  Italy  soon  there- 
after, out  of  Greece,  a  sudden  interest  in  the  great  dead 
past  of  antique  Rome  and  ancient  Hellas — a  widespread 
searching  into  the  Greek  ideal  of  life  that  had  insisted  upon 
man  as  being  the  chiefest  significance  to  man — a  keen  desire 
to  learn,  from  the  literature  and  history  and  arts  of  antique 
days,  what  had  been  the  source  of  his  glory  and  his 
greatness — that  inquisitiveness  into  the  ideals  of  the  men  of 
antique  days  which  the  philosophic  folk  call  Humanism. 

At  once  sprang  up  a  taste  for  Greek  and  Roman  litera- 
ture and  art ;  and  architecture  took  on  forms  that  were  a 
tribute  to  Athens — the  Renaissance  architecture  was  born. 
The  men  of  the  Renaissance  no  doubt  thought  they  were 
bringing  Athens  to  Italy ;  but  there  was  that  in  their  blood 
which  made  an  academic  restoration  impossible — they  were 
working  out  a  new  growth  of  the  soul  of  man,  and  were  but 
disciplining  Gothic  art  to  Greek  forms,  creating  the  mixed 
and  complex  art  of  the  Renaissance  that  had  no  real  like- 
ness to  that  of  Athens,  however  much  it  aimed  to  imitate 
antique  Greece. 

Certain  fine  qualities  the  Italians  caught  from  Greece — 
love  of  independence,  a  republican  ideal  of  liberty.  And 
just  as  Greece  inspired  these  ideals,  so  also  she  put  upon 
Italy  that  lack  of  nationality,  the  petty  conception  of  the 
city's  greatness  above  the  unity  of  the  race,  which  was  to 
be  the  curse  of  Italy  throughout  the  splendid  years  of  her 
Renaissance  ;  which  was  to  split  the  land  into  warring 
32 


OF  PAINTING 


elements  and  petty  states  ;   which  was  at  last  to  lose  Italy  OF  THE 

her  independence  for  hundreds  of  years.     And,  as  with  her  CRADLE  OF 

life,  so  with  her  art — the  Greek  spirit  was  to  set  up  a  living  THE  RE- 

ideal  of  humanism  ;  to  set  up  also  a  false  ideal,  the  ideal  of  NAISSANCE 

Beauty  as  the  aim  of  Art,  which  was  to  hamper  her  com- 

plete  expression,  and  eventually  to  fall  like  a  blight  upon 

her  artistic  endeavour — and  to  balk  the  endeavour  of  all 

lands  that  came  under  her  after-influence.     For  nothing  has 

balked  the  full  utterance  of  the  arts  in  the  succeeding  ages, 

and  hampered  their  achievement  so  wantonly,  as  this  Greek 

falsity  that  Art  is  Beauty. 

Italy,  then,  since  the  fall  of  Rome,  had  been  building 
the  Italy  of  the  Middle  Ages,  mediaeval  Italy,  using  her 
ancient  Roman  buildings  for  quarries  wherefrom  to  take  the 
stone  for  that  building — ^just  as  her  life  had  filched  parts 
from  the  life  of  ancient  Rome.  Then,  towards  1300,  came 
the  Gothic  love  of  nature  stealing  across  the  Alps  out  of 
France  and  from  the  Rhine.  For  he  who  looks  upon  the 
art  of  Renaissance  Italy  feels  at  once  that  here  is  something 
pouring  into  his  sense  of  vision  that  no  other  age  had 
aforetime  brought  forth. 

To  realise  the  significance  of  Italian  art,  it  is  well  also  to 
remember  that,  at  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  life 
beyond  the  death  of  the  body — otherworldliness — the  Day 
of  Judgment,  or  rather,  as  the  Middle  Ages  grimly  put  it, 
the  Day  of  Wrath,  "  Dies  Irae,"  filled  the  vision  of  the 
Italian.  Dante's  whole  genius  was  founded  upon  it — his 
art  thunders  it.  The  theatres  made  Hell  the  subject  of 
their  dramas.  Tortures  and  the  agonies  of  burning  cauldrons 
drew  crowds  to  the  pageant  and  the  play  !  So  you  shall 
find  the  art  of  Florence,  from  beginning  to  end,  steeped  in 
the  inquisitive  survey  of  the  emotions  in  the  Day  of  Wrath; 
VOL.  I — E  33 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN  Michelangelo  putting  the  crown  to  his  and  Italy's  achieve- 
OF  ment  in  a  vast  Day  of  Judgment.     The  several  circles  of  hell 

MODERN        roused  the  painters  to  continued  illustration.     And  the  very 
PAINTING      Christ  loomed  to  them  as  the  Judge  to  whom  even  the 
Madonna  kneels  at  the  dread  bar  of  Final  Justice. 

It  was  the  monkish  habit  that  upheld  the  ascetic  over 
the  worldly  life — as  though  to  discipline  men's  passions 
with  the  fear  of  death  ever  before  their  eyes.  Thus,  side 
by  side,  even  whilst  Boccaccio's  tales  and  Petrarch's  sonnets 
sound  the  blithe  note  of  the  coming  era,  the  Italian  genius 
is  weighed  down  by  the  desolate  nightmare  that  was  the 
gift  of  the  Middle  Ages — Death  busy  with  his  sickle 
amongst  young  men  and  maids,  rich  and  poor,  with  the 
wrath  of  God  beyond  and  inevitable.  Surely  Boccaccio  in 
the  garden,  beguiling  the  youths  and  damsels  amidst  the 
roses,  while  the  plague  roams  outside  the  gates,  bears 
something  of  the  symbol  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy  !  It 
was  a  dramatic  age — and  the  drama  uttered  itself  in 
painting. 

The  grim  and  savage  sternness  of  the  Middle  Ages 
burst  through  the  gates  of  the  dawn  of  the  Renaissance, 
joined  hands  with  Romance  and  antique  Paganism,  and  ran 
riot  through  the  Renaissance. 

So,  too,  the  Church.  The  Middle  Ages  left  a  heritage 
of  two  vast  contending  forces  to  the  Renaissance.  On  the 
one  hand  the  sweet  bequest  of  Saint  Francis  of  Assisi, 
beautiful  and  exquisite,  gentle  and  tender,  loving  beast  and 
flower  and  all  created  things,  redolent  of  charity  and 
mildness,  generosity  and  love  ;  on  the  other  Saint  Dominic, 
the  remorseless  foe  of  all  heresies,  the  warlike  and  aggressive 
lord  of  dogma,  "  the  holy  athlete,  gentle  to  his  own,  and 
to  his  foes  cruel "  of  Dante's  phrase — he  who  dealt  out 
butcheries  and   burnings  to   save   the   soul  of  man.      For 

34 


OF   PAINTING 


St.  Francis,  love  ;  for  St.  Dominic,  wrath — the  old  conflict  OF  THE 
of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  and  the  Christian  Gospels,  the  CRADLE  OF 
eternal    problem.      So    the    punning    monks    did    call    the  THE  RE- 
Dominicans   Domini  canes — the    black    and    white    hounds  J^^ISSANCE 
hunting  heretic  wolves. 

Again,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Italians  of 
the  Renaissance  expressed  their  genius,  their  hopes,  their 
aims,  their  ambitions,  their  life,  in  terms  of  art — above  all, 
in  the  art  of  painting.  The  Italian  peoples,  their  habits, 
their  manners,  their  everyday  life,  uttered  themselves  forth 
artistically.  The  land  was  ablaze  with  splendid  ceremonial; 
magnificence  paraded  itself  everywhere  ;  the  heads  of  the 
great  families  kept  vast  armies  of  retainers  arrayed  in  fine 
armour  and  gorgeous  liveries,  their  houses  sumptuously 
built  and  decorated,  their  furniture  elaborate  ;  every  article 
of  domestic  use  aimed  at  the  beautiful — cups,  tankards, 
platters,  door-handles,  knockers,  beds,  coverlets,  trunks, 
tables,  everything.  From  the  Pope  upon  St.  Peter's  chair 
to  the  clerk  in  the  city,  all  played  at  the  splendid  pageant 
of  life — each  was  picturesque.  Wars  were  waged  as  a 
mighty  pageant,  with  elaborate  laws  and  formalities  and 
etiquette — and  marchings  and  countermarchings  hither  and 
thither,  drums  beating,  banners  flying,  trumpets  sounding. 


35 


PAINTING 


CHAPTER    II 
THE  RENAISSANCE  DAWNS  OVER  CENTRAL  ITALY 

THE  DAWN  He  who  would  grasp  the  significance  of  the  Renaissance 
OF  of  the  arts  in  Italy  would  do  well  first  to  set  the  shape  of 

MODERN  Italy  in  the  mirror  of  his  mind.  As  schoolboys  have  it, 
Italy  lies  like  a  long  jack-boot  upon  the  waters  of  the 
Mediterranean.  The  Alps,  sweeping  round  the  northern 
boundaries  of  Italy,  curve  down  southwards  to  separate 
France  from  Her ;  turn  eastwards,  skirting  the  edge  of  the 
Gulf  of  Genoa ;  then  strike  southwards  to  make  the  backbone 
of  Italy  as  the  Apennines,  no  longer  hugging  the  shore,  but 
running  towards  the  heel  of  Italy  athwart  the  land,  then 
having  near  touched  the  eastern  coast  at  the  boot's  ankle, 
they  change  their  intention,  and  run  down  to  the  toe  of 
the  boot.  This  backbone  of  Italy  divides  the  northern 
lowlands  of  Lombardy  and  Venice  from  the  Tuscan 
lowlands  of  western  mid-Italy  ;  and  to  the  cities  of  these 
two  lowlands,  north  and  south  of  the  Apennines,  came  the 
wondrous  blossoming  and  flowering  of  the  arts  of  the 
Renaissance.  Of  a  truth,  this  shaping  of  her  surface  not 
only  influenced  her  arts,  but  largely  affected  her  troublous 
and  strenuous  history,  and  shaped  her  destinies. 

The  history  of  Renaissance  Italy  is  a  very  intricate 
affair,  since  it  is  the  history  of  rival  towns  and  rival 
families — not  the  history  of  a  people.  The  art  of  the  time 
has  fallen  into  this  complexity  and  become  as  a  puzzle, 
largely  due  to  the  utterly  false  system  of  attributing  to  each 
town  an  art  of  its  own.  The  art  of  Italy,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  is  but  the  art  of  three  great  movements — the  art  of 

36 


PAINTING 


Venice  in  the  north,  and  the  art  of  Central  Italy,  which  THE   RE- 

had   its   two   homes,   the   one   in    Florence  and   the   other  NAISSANCE 

alongside  in  Siena,  which  spread  to  neighbouring  Umbria,  DAWNS 

making  its  home  in  Perugia.     All  other  Italian  art  arose  out  OVER 

of  these  three  great  centres — Venice,  Florence,  and  Umbria.  ^-^^  ^  KAL 
•         •  ITALY 

Sometimes  the  issue  is  confused  by  talk  of  "  the  school 

of  Milan,"  but  this  was  simply,  as  we  shall  see,  the  school 

of  Florence,  taken  thither  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci.     And  so 

with  the  others. 

Another  source  of  confusion  is  the  idea  that  the  art 
of  the  Renaissance  arose  in  Italy  out  of  Greece ;  that  it 
flourished  in  Italy ;  then  passed  to  the  north  and  west.  It 
did  no  such  thing.  The  Renaissance  began  along  the 
Rhine  at  the  same  time  as  in  Italy.  The  Flemish  and 
Italian  Renaissance  acted  and  counteracted  the  one  on  the 
other,  and  both  had  their  roots  not  in  Hellas  but  in  the 
Middle  Ages  ;  both  were  essentially  children  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  but  both  were  affected  in  the  schoolroom  by  the 
antique  governess. 

Unless  this  essential  fact  be  grasped  and  held,  no  man 
shall  understand  the  significance  either  of  the  Renaissance 
or  of  its  artistic  utterance. 

What  fairy  godmother  watched  over  Venice  and 
Florence,  over  Siena  and  Perugia,  who  shall  tell .?  We 
can  but  shrug  the  shoulder  of  surprise  that  Genoa,  despite 
her  wide  sea-intercourse  with  the  world,  and  situate  near 
Carrara's  famed  marble  quarries — that  Rome,  the  centre  of 
the  age  and  the  shrine  of  the  art-student  and  the  traveller 
— that  Piedmont  and  Liguria,  Naples  and  the  South, 
remained  wholly  barren  of  the  creators  of  art.  Whilst 
Venice  sang  the  glory  of  the  world  and  the  splendour  of 
life  in  oil-painting,  Florence  gave  forth  in  fresco  the  tragic 
intensity  of  life,  founded  on  the  grim  and  stern  spirit  of  the 

37 


PAINTING 

THE  DAWN  prophets,  felt  with  an  almost  Greek  fatalism  ;  and  pietistic 
OF  Siena  and  Umbria,  stirred  by  the  gentle  and  gracious  spirit 

MODERN        of  St.   Francis  from  Assisi,  hymned  the   religious  fervour 
rAlNllJNCj     ^^^^  comes  from  spiritual  contemplation  and  the  consolation 
of  the  Gospels. 

To  Tuscany,  then,  it  were  well  first  to  turn.  Painting 
began  as  the  servant  of  the  Church — her  sole  theme  the 
thought  of  the  mediasval  church.  The  painters,  employing 
nature  to  give  visual  form  to  their  art,  became  masters  of 
natural  forms ;  mere  vague  mystic  dreams  gave  way  to 
realism.  The  artist  began  early  to  find  that  there  were  far 
wider  emotions  than  such  as  were  aroused  by  worship ;  he 
speedily  became  secular.  The  rapid  increase  of  the  power 
of  the  great  families  soon  saw  the  artists  adorning  the 
palaces.  The  classical  revival  and  interest  in  antique  thought 
that  began  to  grip  the  imagination  of  men  about  the 
middle  fourteen-hundreds,  still  further  increased  the  secular 
aim  of  the  painter.  As  the  fourteen-hundreds  ran  out, 
politics  and  social  life,  to  the  very  inmost  sanctuaries  of 
the  great  Church  itself,  rapidly  lost  religious  fervour  and 
the  simple  mediaeval  faith ;  the  old  sense  of  morality  was 
loosened,  and  took  on  the  more  pagan  ideals  of  the  antique 
Greek  ;  and  a  humane  paganism  and  State-Christianity 
went  to  their  wedding.  By  the  year  1500  the  mightiest 
masters  of  the  art  of  painting  in  the  Renaissance  wrought 
a  splendid  art,  that  proved  the  age  to  be  neither  wholly 
Christian  nor  wholly  heathen,  but  learned  and  intensely 
human.  Yet  even  as  she  uttered  her  supreme  song,  the  end 
was  near  for  Italy.  She  flung  away  her  liberty  in  the  false 
glamour  of  the  splendour  of  her  great  families,  who,  under 
the  forms  of  liberty,  reduced  her  to  slavery  and  filched  her 
strength. 

38 


CHAPTER    III 

OF  THE  ITALY  INTO  WHICH  THE  RENAIS- 
SANCE CAME 

Out   of  the  vast  confusion  and  tangle  of  the  end  of  the  OF  THE 

Middle  Ages  rises  this  Renaissance — an  era  not  over  easy  ITALY  IN- 

exactly  to  define.     If  by  the  Middle   Ages  we  mean  the  TO  WHICH 

period  which  follows  the  breaking  up  of  the  Roman  Empire  THE   RE- 

bv  the  invasion  of  the  Germanic  barbarian  hordes  from  the      AlbbANLhi 

.  .  O  A IVIT'' 

north,  and  the  forming,  out  of  these  barbarian  peoples,  of  the 

great  nationalities  that  we  now  call  Europe,  then  let  us  grasp 

the  main  ideas  which  constitute  medievalism.     First  of  all, 

the  modern  nations — the  French,  English,  Spanish,  and  the 

like — only  became  conscious  of  their  unity  at  the  end  of 

the  Middle  Ages.     Christendom  in  the  Middle  Ages  was 

a  single  state  under   two   great  heads,   the  Pope  and  the 

Emperor.     And  Christendom  was  in  practice  a  huge  Feudal 

system,  founded  on  the  tenure  of  the  land  and  on  military 

service,  whereby  each  class  had   rights   and   duties   to  the 

other — industry   had   small   place   in   it — and   the   code   of 

conduct  consisted  in  the  fantastic  and  romantic  rules  and 

customs  called  Chivalry.     This  Chivalry  was  as  universal 

as  Christianity,  and  so  little  national  was  it,  that  a  French  or 

Italian  knight  were  more  akin,  and  had  more  in  common, 

than  they  had  with  the  citizen  or  peasant  of  their  own  land. 

Then,  the  individual  was   not  the  social  unit,  which  was 

rather  a  corporation,  either  of  the  manor,  or  the  municipal 

body,  or  the  guild — the   individual  had  no  outlet  for  his 

activities  outside  these.     Then,  it  was  an  age  of  ignorance. 

39 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN  The    clergy    alone    were   learned,    and    that    learning   was 
OF  severely  restricted  as  to  what  it  uttered  forth.     Not  that 

MODERN       the   clergy   withheld   education ;    printing  was   unknown  ; 
PAJNllNCj      ^^^   ^YiQ    small    literature   produced   was   written   in   Latin 
on    parchments.      The   learned   themselves   were   therefore 
grossly  given  up  to  superstition. 

The  Renaissance  saw  the  whole  fabric  of  the  Middle  Ages 
come  to  an  end — it  set  a  file  to  cut  the  fetters  from  liberty 
of  thought  and  liberty  of  inquiry.  It  dawned  in  the  twelve- 
hundreds,  and  shed  its  light  over  the  thirteen-hundreds  and 
fourteen-hundreds,  and  reached  its  fulness  in  the  fifteen- 
hundreds  in  the  wide  upheaval  of  a  vast  religious  struggle. 
It  saw  the  decay  of  the  Empire  and  of  the  Papacy — and 
with  them  went  the  whole  tradition,  laws,  and  habits  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  It  saw  the  growth  of  nationalities.  It  wit- 
nessed the  rise  of  national  literatures  and  national  churches. 
It  beheld  the  rise  of  industry  breaking  up  feudalism 
and  chivalry,  and  the  assailing  of  aristocratic  and  ecclesi- 
astical power  by  the  people.  It  was  racked  by  the  fierce 
wars  of  monarchies  which  founded  themselves  upon  the 
support  of  the  people,  even  if,  except  in  England,  the 
monarchs  kicked  away  that  support  as  soon  as  they  had 
established  their  power.  It  was  an  age  of  inventions  and 
discoveries — the  compass  and  the  astrolabe  led  the  sea-dogs 
to  mighty  adventure  upon  the  great  waters,  so  that  the 
keels  thrashed  out  a  new  water-way  to  India,  and  man's 
daring  found  a  new  world  across  the  terrors  of  the  Atlantic, 
thereby  changing  the  trade-routes  of  the  universe.  The 
discovery  of  gunpowder  blew  not  only  the  picturesque 
armour  to  pieces  but  upset  the  whole  art  of  war,  and  over- 
threw the  whole  system  on  which  feudalism  was  built — 
changing  the  whole  form  of  society,  that  had  heretofore 
been  founded  on  military  service.  Printing  spread  literature 
40 


OF   PAINTING 


and  knowledge  across  the  land.     Copernicus  overthrew  the  OF  THE 

whole  belief  in  the  position  of  the  earth,  and  brought  down  ITALY   IN- 

the  vast  structure  of  superstition  with  a  crash.     And  mighty  TO   WHICH 

as  was  the  upheaval,  its  chief  source  of  inspiration  was  in  THE   RE- 

its   revival   of  letters   and   the   utterance   of  its  awakeninp-  ^-^I^^ANLh 

CAME 
energies  in  the  so-called  re-birth  of  Art. 

The  recovery  of  ancient  literature  fired  the  ambition  of 
man,  arising  from  the  long  sleep  of  the  Middle  Ages,  to 
desire  for  individual  liberty.  Man  began  to  look  upon 
himself  as  man — Humanism  became  a  god.  He  read  his 
new  needs  in  the  achievements  of  republican  Rome  and 
ancient  Greece.  Italy,  by  her  position  in  the  waters  of 
the  Mediterranean,  became  the  mart  of  commerce.  Her 
citizens  grew  to  prodigious  wealth.  And,  what  is  far  too 
much  overlooked,  she  received  from  the  East,  through 
Arabia  and  Persia,  the  vast  teachings  of  the  great  Eastern 
thought. 

The  Church,  having  its  seat  in  their  very  midst,  by 
very  contact  with  the  Italian  peoples,  had  not  the  dread 
terror  for  them  that  its  commands  and  threats  held  for  more 
distant  peoples.  No  man  is  a  hero  to  his  own  valet.  The 
thunders  that  frightened  the  Emperor  Lewis  of  Bavaria  into 
submission  had  no  terrors  for  an  Italian  prince.  The  legates 
that  bore  the  papal  bull  of  excommunication  to  Bernabo 
Visconti  had  to  eat  the  parchment  and  swallow  the  leaden 
seal !  But  the  Pontiffs,  so  far  from  checking  the  new  learn- 
ing and  the  antique  thought,  encouraged  it  and  gloried  in  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  same  familiarity  with  the  Papacy 
which  prevented  the  Italians  from  being  overawed  by  the 
Papal  fulminations  made  them  so  used  to  the  abuses  of  the 
Papal  court  which  set  in,  that  they  were  not  scandalised  by 
them,  and  took  no  part  in  flinging  off  the  yoke,  as  did  the 
northern  peoples.  The  Popes,  also,  had  added  temporal 
VOL.  I — F  4^ 


A   HISTORY 


PAINTING 


THE  DAWN  splendour  to  their  spiritual  supremacy,  and  vied  with  the 
OF  great   Italian  princes  in  the  splendour  of  their  courts  and 

MODERN  churches  and  palaces.  They  became  eager  patrons  of  the 
Renaissance,  thereby,  unwitting  of  it,  adding  force  to  the 
movement  that  was  to  overthrow  the  wide  authority  of 
Rome  over  Christendom — just  as  the  nobles  of  France  were, 
later,  to  play  with  philosophy  that  had  popular  rights  and 
liberty  for  its  very  essence,  and,  together  with  the  French 
monarchy,  aided  the  revolt  of  Britain's  American  colonists, 
thereby  creating  the  French  Revolution. 

Dante  stands  in  the  twilight  of  the  Middle  Ages,  utter- 
ing the  first  new  national  literature.  Dante  was  essentially 
of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  he  clung  to  its  faith  and  its  ideals. 
But  by  his  example  he  almost  set  foot  on  the  threshold  of 
the  new  era.  Petrarch,  following  after,  sets  the  fashion  of 
the  sonnet,  and  his  song  is  passionate  with  the  antique  love 
of  liberty  and  the  significance  of  man  as  man,  which  makes 
him  the  first  of  the  so-called  Humanists.  But  there  wrought 
side  by  side  with  Petrarch  a  far  more  significant  genius  in 
letters,  Boccaccio  of  the  immortal  tales  of  the  Decameron. 
From  that  garden  where  the  youths  and  maidens  sat  and 
listened  to  him,  whilst  he  turned  their  thoughts  from  the 
Black  Plague  that  raged  through  the  city,  Boccaccio  brought 
the  spirit  of  antique  Greece  into  Italy,  and  from  Italy  it 
spread  across  the  face  of  the  world — for  he  uttered  there  a 
contempt  of  superstition  and  a  joy  of  life  that  meant  death 
to  the  sombre  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages.  In  far  England 
Chaucer  caught  the  refrain,  and  brought  to  birth  the 
Canterbury  Tales.  Thus  the  fashion  for  the  ancient  literature 
and  works  of  art  grew  into  a  vogue ;  and  it  so  chanced  that 
a  worthy  and  somewhat  ambitious  usurer  and  banker  of 
Florence,  of  a  house  to  grow  famous  as  the  de'  Medici, 
gathered  the  learned  and  the  poets  and  painters  and  archi- 
42 


OF   PAINTING 


tects  and  sculptors  about  him,  and  made  the  City  of  the  OF   THE 
Lilies    to    blossom   with   the    supreme    art    of  the    Italian  ITALY  IN- 
Renaissance,  so  that  her  fame  lives  throughout  the  ages.         TO   WHICH 

The  early  fourteen-hundreds  saw  the  collections  of  THE  RE- 
works  of  antique  literature  and  art  pouring  into  the  land  ;  ^^ISSANCE 
the  end  of  the  fourteen-hundreds  saw  men  reading  and 
studying  them,  and  forthwith  they  got  to  interpreting  them 
and  applying  them  to  the  problems  of  their  own  age.  Italy 
and  the  world  beyond  Italy  broke  asunder.  Italy  was  filled 
with  destructive  criticism.  Lorenzo  Valla  attacked  the 
title-deeds  of  the  Popes  to  worldly  power,  and  the  whole 
church  system.  Destructive  criticism  led  to  the  denials  of 
pure  negation — and,  as  ever  with  mere  denial,  licence  and 
lack  of  ideals  arose  in  the  land.  Beyond  Italy,  the  love  of 
Freedom  led  to  constructive  ideals,  and  created  the  Reforma- 
tion. But  both  the  leaders  of  the  Reformation  in  the  north, 
and  the  leaders  of  the  chaos  in  Italy,  once  established,  grew 
alarmed  for  themselves,  and  hurriedly  turned  against  the 
very  spirit  of  liberty  that  had  created  them ;  they  steeped 
themselves  in  a  bitter  and  black  Puritanism.  Protestantism 
became  extreme,  and  turned  to  a  Puritanism  bitterly  opposed 
to  Humanism.  Savonarola,  the  guiding  spirit  of  Catholic 
Puritanism,  as  fiercely  assailed  Humanism.  So  Florence  saw 
that  fantastic  festival  when  the  youths  and  maidens  of  the 
city  brought  out  their  pictures  and  jewels  and  personal 
decorations,  their  precious  books,  and  priceless  works  of  art, 
and  flung  them  into  the  public  bonfires;  just  as  the  EngHsh 
and  Dutch  Puritans  denounced  art  as  the  mere  love  of 
beauty  and  carnal  pleasure,  and,  though  they  had  founded 
their  faith  in  freedom  of  thought  and  of  soul  and  of  worship, 
were  soon  raising  as  cast-iron  a  dogma  and  setting  up  a 
State-church  as  violently  intolerant  as  that  against  which 
they  had  revolted  themselves,  to  become  as  bitter  persecutors 

43 


PAINTING 

THE  DAWN  as  their  persecutors.  But,  spite  of  this  reaction,  the 
OF  Renaissance  had  added  a  forward  step  to  man's  empire  ot 

MODERN  liberty  of  mind,  of  act,  of  body  and  of  soul.  The 
PAINTING      school    arose   in   every  city,  whereby  became  wedded  the 

discipline   of  the   free    mind    and    the    conscience    of  the 

individual  man. 


+4 


CHAPTER    IV 

OF  THE  ITALY  IN  WHICH  THE  RENAISSANCE 
BLOSSOMED 

In   the   year   962   after   Christ,   the    Roman    Empire    had  OF   THE 
become  one  with  the  German  crown.     It  thereby  destroyed  ITALY  IN 
both   realms   of  its   sovereignty.     The  universal  authority  WHICH 
of  the   Emperor  became  shadowy,  and  swiftly  passed  into  THE  RE- 
unreality.     The  Empire  was  torn  into  shreds  amidst  that  T^fTw? 
tangle  of  warring  princes  who  created  the  puzzled  night-  cniviFn 
mare  of  history  called  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  other  great  centre  of  mediaeval  power,  the  Papacy, 
also  declined,  even  whilst  it  increased  in  worldly  splendour, 
losing  its  world-power  by  being  localised  in  a  little  state  in 
Central  Italy.  Claiming  certain  lands  in  Central  Italy  by 
virtue  of  real  or  pretended  donations  from  the  Emperors 
and  others,  the  Popes  made  the  fatal  mistake,  backed  by 
the  house  of  Anjou  that  sat  upon  the  throne  of  Naples  to 
the  south,  to  temporal  dominion  over  the  Romagna,  the 
Pentapolis,  the  March  of  Ancona,  with  the  city  of  Rome 
and  the  Campagna.  In  doing  so,  they  became  lords  of  a 
little  kingdom  instead  of  lords  of  Christendom.  Their 
alliance  with  the  house  of  Anjou  soon  became  a  masked 
servitude  to  the  patronage  of  that  house.  The  troubles  of 
temporal  rule  plunged  the  Popes  into  secular  affairs,  to  the 
loss  of  their  spiritual  power.  The  Popes  were  always  old 
men,  and  their  tenure  of  office  was  brief.  Not  only  did 
secular  affairs  take  their  interest  from  high  spiritual  affairs, 
but  it  lowered  them  in  the  eyes  of  Europe.     Thus,  they 

45 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN  became  associated  with  the  mere  lordship  of  a  petty  Italian 
OF  state,  and  their  great  position  was  wholly  degraded  by  it, 

MODERN  exactly  as  the  Empire  was  degraded  the  moment  it  became 
a  mere  German  monarchy.  I  am  now  using  the  term 
"  degraded  "  as  meaning  degradation  of  power.  We  shall 
see  how  the  Pontiffs,  in  proportion  as  they  became  little 
kings  of  Central  Italy,  also  became  degraded  in  ethics 
during  the  Renaissance. 

This  loss  of  a  great  central  power  by  the  retirement  of 
the  Emperor  to  a  little  German  court,  and  by  the  ambition 
of  the  Popes  to  found  a  little  Central  Italian  kingdom, 
broke  Italy  into  a  large  number  of  warring  states,  out  of 
which  emerged  Naples  to  the  south,  with  the  house  of 
Anjou  as  its  sovereign ;  the  duchy  of  Milan  in  Lombardy 
to  the  north,  with  its  dominant  family  of  the  Visconti  ;  the 
republic  of  Florence,  with  its  dominant  family  of  the 
merchant  princes  of  the  Medici ;  the  great  Republic  of 
Venice,  and  the  lesser  Republic  of  Genoa  ;  and  the  domina- 
tion of  lesser  states  by  great  families,  such  as  the  House  of 
Este  in  Ferrara,  the  della  Scala  in  Verona,  the  Gonzaga 
in  Mantua,  the  Montefeltri  in  Urbino,  with  all  their  constant 
broils  and  everlasting  quarrels. 

And  by  no  means  the  least  fantastic  paradox  of  the 
Renaissance  in  Italy,  which  was  one  vast  paradox,  is  the 
pathetic  fact  that  whilst  Italy  created  the  art  of  writing 
history  again  with  reasoned  grip  of  the  action  and  counter- 
action of  policies,  whilst  she  taught  all  Europe  the  science 
of  politics,  as  well  as  the  arts  of  letters  and  painting,  whilst 
she  rid  human  thought  of  superstition  and  scholasticism, 
she  was  herself  wholly  unable  to  benefit  from  the  lessons 
that  she  taught.  France,  England,  and  Spain  were  born 
out  of  the  nationalism  she  taught,  and  became  strong ; 
whilst  Italy  remained  a  chaos — the  cockpit  of  the  wars. 

46 


OF   PAINTING 


The   causes   were   many.     The  long  quarrels  between  OF  THE 
Pope  and  Emperor  had  split  Italy  into  the  party  feuds  of  ITALY   IN 
Guelf  and  Ghibelline.     These  feuds  became  hereditary.     A  WHICH 
more  deadly  cause  of  disunion  was  the  fact  of  the  city  being  THE  RE- 
the  unit  of  poHtical  life.      For  when  a  great  city  brought  NAISSANCE 
others  into  its  realm,  the  lesser  cities  did  not  become  a  part  cpjivrc-pj 
of,  or  share  the  equal  rights  of,  the  dominant  commune — 
they   became    essentially   a    conquered   people,  not  fellow- 
citizens.     Thus    the    Italians,   a   proud   people,    proud    of 
liberty,    became    a    hotbed    of  discontent,   eagerly   flocked 
to  the  standard  of  the  soldier-adventurers,  called  condottiert^ 
who  raised  mercenary  armies  for  the  services  of  such  princes 
or    republics    as    offered    the    highest    wage  ;    and    it    was 
exactly  this  population  which  eagerly  welcomed  all  foreign 
invasion  as  a  means  of  escape  from  domestic  tyranny — thus 
the  sense  of  nationality  simply  was  not. 

The  house  of  Anjou,  lords  of  Naples,  the  head  of  the 
Guelfs,  looked  like  dominating  Italy,  when,  in  Sicily,  the 
brutal  insult  to  a  woman  by  a  French  soldier  during  the 
procession  of  Easter  Monday,  on  the  30th  of  March  1282, 
provoked  a  sudden  rising  at  Palermo,  and  the  people,  with 
shouts  of  "  Death  to  the  French  !  "  massacred  over  four 
thousand  men,  women,  and  children  that  evening  in  the 
terrible  tragedy  known  as  the  Sicilian  Vespers,  which  lost 
Sicily  to  the  House  of  Anjou. 

So  far  for  the  kingdom  of  Naples  to  the  south.  The 
Papal  States  need  not  detain  us  long.  With  the  de- 
parture of  the  Popes  to  Avignon,  and  the  seventy  years  of 
their  so-called  "  Babylonish  Captivity,"  we  are  not  here  con- 
cerned. It  is  enough  to  realise  that  the  Popes,  now  being 
petty  potentates  of  Central  Italy,  and  hereditary  succession 
to  their  lordship  being  impossible  owing  to  their  vow  of 
celibacy,  the  vice  of  nepotism  became  rife,  and  the  Popes, 

47 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN  being  old  men  on  election,  had  to  make  the  most  of  a  short 
OF  tenure  of  power  for  the  aggrandisement  of  their  families. 

MODERN  Nicolas  iii.  (i  277-1 280)  increased  the  power  of  his  great 
PAINTING  House  of  the  Orsini ;  Honorius  iv.  (1285-1287)  exalted 
his  family,  the  Savelli,  at  the  cost  of  the  Orsini ;  Nicolas  iv. 
(i  288-1 292)  raised  the  Colonna.  The  thirteen-hundreds 
saw  Rome  torn  with  the  bitter  feuds  of  these  great  baronial 
houses ;  the  effect  on  the  spiritual  and  temporal  dignity  of 
the  Popes  was  wholly  disastrous.  The  Conclave  of  Cardinals 
henceforth  became  the  cockpit  of  their  intrigues.  The 
Popes,  in  their  quarrels  with  the  Emperors,  had  nursed  the 
growth  of  nationalities  in  the  north-west,  only  thereby  to 
forge  the  deadliest  weapons  against  their  successors.  Boni- 
face VIII.  (i  294-1 303),  the  ablest  pontiff  of  his  times, 
unable  to  see  the  overwhelming  force  that  was  being  born 
in  nationalisation,  found  himself  treated  with  contempt  by 
Edward  i.  of  England,  backed  by  his  Parliament — and  by 
Philip  IV.  of  France,  backed  by  his  States-General.  The 
French  king  seized  the  Pope,  whose  humiliation  broke  his 
pride  in  death.  Then  began  the  withdrawal  of  the  Popes 
from  Rome,  which  ended  in  the  exile  of  seventy  years  to 
Avignon,  and  their  subjection  to  French  policy. 

Tuscany,  lying  to  the  north-west  of  the  Papal  States, 
was  a  group  of  city-states,  mostly  republics,  subject  to 
despots.  Of  these  by  far  the  greatest  was  Florence, 
destined  to  become  queen  of  all  Tuscany.  To  the 
south  was  Siena.  The  great  port  of  Pisa  was  declining, 
owing  to  her  defeat  by  Genoa  in  1284.  Lucca  showed 
plucky  resistance  from  time  to  time  to  the  tyranny  of 
Florence. 

Florence  was  to  become  the  hub  of  Central  Italy's  great 
achievement  in  art  and  letters  in  the  Renaissance,  her  only 
rival  the  great  republic  of  Venice  in  the  north.     No  city 

48 


OF   PAINTING 


had    suffered    more    from    the     wrangles    of    Guelf    and  OF   THE 
GhibeUine  ;  and  in  Florence  their  bitterness  and  hatred  was  ITALY   IN 
increased  by  the  fact  that  they  tallied  with  class  hatred.    The  WHICH 
feudal  nobles  were  GhibeUine ;  the  merchant  princes  Guelf,  '^^^   RE- 
siding  therefore  with  the  Popes.     On  the  defeat  of  Manfred  r/^q!^^^^^ 
in  1266,  Florence  became  Guelf  for  the  rest  of  her  career,  comfd 
The  Guelf  sway,  at  first  moderate  and  pacific,  was  changed 
by  the  news  of  the  Sicihan  Vespers  of  1282 — the  Guelfs 
taking  alarm  and  changing  the  constitution,  out  of  which 
arose  four  orders  in  Florence — (i)  the  nobles,  (2)  the  seven 
greater  guilds,   (3)  the  fourteen  lesser  guilds,  and   (4)   the 
ordinary  citizens,  who   were   without   machinery  for  self- 
government    or    influence    on    public   afi^airs.     The   nobles 
could  come  to  office  by  joining  a  guild ;  but  had  to  practise 
the  trade  or  craft — otherwise  they  were  shut  out  of  office, 
and  sufi^ered  many  humiliations.     The  head  officer  of  the 
state,  called  gonfalonier,  was  elected  by  the  signory  of  the 
guilds,  was  in  command  of  a  large  force  of  infantry,  and 
was  elected  for  two  months.     The  harshest  penalty  there- 
fore was  to  ennoble  a  citizen  ;  the  greatest  honour  to  a  noble 
was  to  degrade  him  to  citizen.     The  signory  were  given  a 
fortified  Public  Palace. 

Though  the  actual  conduct  of  affairs  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  plutocracy,  real  power  was  with  all  the  citizens  in 
mass  meeting  in  the  great  piazza  called  a  parlamento. 

The  disastrous  war  of  1321  with  Lucca  showed  the 
weaknesses  of  a  two-months  government  ;  and  a  system  of 
secret  ballots  was  soon  created,  and  the  squittino,  or  scrutiny 
every  two  years,  was  applied.  A  list  of  all  citizens  qualified 
for  office  was  drawn  up  ;  their  names  put  to  the  ballot 
by  the  committee  of  the  signory  for  the  time  being,  the 
black  and  white  beans  fell,  and  such  names  as  received  two- 
thirds  black  beans  were  put  in  the  bags  from  which  vacancies 
VOL.  I — G  49 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN  were  filled  as  they  arose.     It  followed  that  the  committee 
OF  of  signory  in  power  largely  controlled  the  names  in   the 

MODERN        bags.     By   1323,  then,  Florence  was  governed  by  a  gon- 
PAINTING      falonier  of  justice,  six  priors,  and  twelve  buonuomini,  who 
were  the  privy  council  to  the  signory.     But  it  was  com- 
plicated by  a  series  of  subordinate  magistracy  who  greatly 
confused  all  issues. 

Genoa  played  but  a  small  part  in  the  Renaissance,  taken 
up  with  its  incessant  family  feuds  of  the  Doria  and  Spinola, 
and  chiefly  concerned  in  creating  its  vast  sea-borne  wealth 
by  eastern  trading. 

Milan,  fast  losing  its  republican  independence,  was 
racked  with  class  feuds  and  cross-racked  with  family  feuds. 
In  1259  the  Guelfs,  under  their  great  leader,  Martino  della 
Torre,  overthrew  the  Ghibelline  nobles,  and  became  lord  of 
the  great  Lombard  city,  bringing  Lodi,  Como,  Vercelli, 
and  Bergamo  into  subjection  to  him.  But  the  Ghibelline 
revolution  of  1277,  under  the  Archbishop  Otto  Visconti, 
set  Visconti  in  the  seat  of  lordship  ;  from  him  it  passed, 
on  his  death,  to  his  nephew  Matteo  Visconti,  founder  of 
the  Visconti  dynasty  of  Dukes  of  Milan,  which,  however, 
was  not  yet  to  be,  the  Guelfs  first,  for  a  short  while,  restoring 
their  line,  bringing  Guido  della  Torre  to  rule  in  Milan. 

The  fortunes  of  Venice  we  will  follow  later,  in  her 
great  art  achievement — such  worlds  apart  from  that  of 
Florence. 

So  for  some  sixty  years  the  affairs  of  Italy  had  drifted 
towards  the  rule  of  local  despots,  when  the  Emperor, 
Henry  vii.,  decided  on  his  hopeless  scheme  of  restoring 
the  empire  throughout  Italy.  He  but  clutched  at  a 
shadow.  His  policy  of  moderation  was  carried  out.  As 
he  passed  through  the  cities  of  Lombardy,  he  recalled  all 
50 


OF   PAINTING 


exiles  of  whatever  party.     On  receiving  the  Iron  Crown  OF  THE 

of  Lombardy  at  Milan,  on  the  6th  of  January   1311,   he  ITALY  IN 

recalled  Matteo  Visconti  without  setting  aside  Guido  della  WHICH 

Torre.      But    his    moderation   fell   upon   stonv   ground    in   ^"^^  ^^~ 

NAISSANCP 
Italy.     Milan  rose   against   his  levy  for  money  ;   it  ended 

in    disaster,   and    Guido  della  Torre   and    his    house   were  cqaafd 
driven  into  exile,  the  Guelfs  were  put  down  with  a  stern 
hand,  and   Matteo  Visconti  was   again   established  as   lord 
of  Milan,  thus  creating  the  dynasty  of  the  Visconti,  which 
ruled  Milan  for  a  century  and  a  half. 

Thenceforth  the  dream  of  Henry  vii.  vanished  into 
smoke.  On  his  southward  journey  the  Guelf  city  of 
Florence  refused  to  admit  him  or  his  troops,  and  he  had 
to  pass  aside  on  his  wayfaring  to  Rome.  Finding  Rome 
in  possession  of  the  Guelf  Orsini,  and  seeing  that  a  battle 
must  be  fought  before  he  could  be  crowned  in  St.  Peter's, 
he  was  crowned  instead  at  St.  John  Lateran,  on  the  29th 
of  June  1 3 1 2.  Convinced  now  that  Italy  could  only  be 
reduced  by  war,  his  line  of  communication  with  Germany 
threatened  by  the  Guelfs  in  the  north,  Henry  decided  to 
strike  at  the  Guelf  cause  in  Florence.  But  he  arrived 
before  the  city's  walls  in  the  September  of  1312,  to  find 
them  too  strong.  He  withdrew  to  Pisa  to  await  reinforce- 
ments, as  the  king  of  Naples  was  advancing  to  the  support 
of  Florence.  He  had  commenced  his  march  to  attack 
the  Neapolitan  army  when  he  died  suddenly  of  fever  at 
Buonconvento,  twelve  miles  from  Siena,  on  August  24, 
131 3,  supposed  to  have  been  poisoned  by  a  Dominican 
monk  in  giving  him  the  sacrament.  So  vanished  the 
Emperor's  and  Dante's  dream  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire. 
For  several  years  the  Popes  had  departed  to  the  banks  of 
the  Rhone.  Italy,  freed  from  her  two  great  masters,  fell 
apart,    and    the    thirteen-hundreds    show    the    rise    of  the 

51 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN  despots — the  lesser  states  fell  under  the  dominion  of  their 

OF  more  powerful  neighbours,  and  thus  arose  the  five   great 

MODERN        powers  whose  fierce  motives  create  the  story  of  the  century. 

The  later  invasions  from  the  north,  first  of  Lewis  of  Bavaria 

and  then  of  John  of  Bohemia,  with  their  German  legions, 

to  establish  the  empire,  equally  failed. 

The  despot  Visconti  in  Milan,  and  Delia  Scala  in 
Verona,  overthrew  republican  independence  in  the  cities 
of  Lombardy.  The  Papal  States  were  governed  by  legates 
of  the  Popes,  though  these  were  constantly  assailed  by 
Ghibelline  despots  in  the  several  cities. 

Florence  remained  republican.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  to  an  Italian  patriotism  meant  nothing.  A  Florentine 
was  a  Florentine  only.  Outside  that,  Italy  meant  nothing 
to  him.  A  man  of  Milan  or  Venice  was  as  much  a 
foreigner  to  him  as  was  a  Frenchman.  He  had  no  sense 
of  shame  in  calling  in  the  French  to  assist  him  against 
another  Italian  city. 

The  humiliating  defeat  of  Florence  by  Pisa  in  1341, 
and  the  loss  of  Lucca,  made  the  citizens  in  an  evil  moment 
call  in  the  foreigner  Walter  de  Brienne,  Duke  of  Athens, 
as  dictator.  But  ten  months  of  despotism  roused  the 
liberty-loving  Florentines.  The  fall  of  the  Duke  of 
Athens  led  to  the  further  democratisation  of  Florence. 

Unfortunately,  the  martial  vigour  that  overthrew  the 
Duke  of  Florence  was  not  common  in  Italy,  and  was  soon 
also  to  pass  from  Florence  herself.  The  thirteen-hundreds 
saw  a  change  come  over  the  military  training  of  Italy, 
which  was  to  be  disastrous  to  her  liberties.  During  the 
two  centuries  just  past,  the  whole  of  the  male  population 
had  been  trained  as  a  militia.  It  was  a  citizen  army,  and 
was  the  finest  security  for  political  liberty.  Directly  the 
despots  arose,  their  first  concern  was  to  disarm  the  citizen, 

52 


OF   PAINTING 


and  to  hire  alien  troops  who  had  no  sympathy  with  the  OF  THE 
people  whatsoever.     The  invasions  of  Henry  vii.,  Lewis  of  ITALY  IN 
Bavaria,  and  John  of  Bohemia  had  left  a  horde  of  German  WHICH 
adventurers  behind,  willing  to  take  Italian  wage ;  and  these  THE  RE- 
men    passed    into    the    bodyguards   of  the    despots.      The  NAISSANCE 
republics  found  themselves  compelled  to  do  the  same,  as  ^^^^" 
their    citizen    infantry   were    no    match   for   these    heavily 
armed  cavalry.     Wars  were  become  elaborate   affairs — the 
short   sharp   city   fight  was   gone,   and   citizens   could   not 
afford  the  time  for  campaigning.     The  Florentines  followed 
the   fashion.      Thus,   until   gunpowder   came   to   blow  the 
business   to    pieces,   great    hired    armies    of  heavy   cavalry 
became    the   fashion.      The    leaders    of  these    mercenaries 
soon  became  conscious  of  the  power  that  they  held ;  they 
created  armies  and  lived  upon  the  unwarlike  states,  reach- 
ing to  wealth  and   power  by  hiring  their  services  to  the 
highest  bidder.      One   of   the   most    picturesque   of  these 
warriors  who  poured  into   Italy  to  the  great   looting  was 
the   famous    Englishman,    John     Hawkwood,    whom    the 
Florentines    called    Giovanni    Acuto,    and    who,   with    his 
White  Company,  was  famed  for  his  high  honour  and  good 
faith,  to  which  the  Florentines  bore  handsome  witness  by 
giving  him  a  tomb  and  monument  in  the  Duomo. 

The  later  thirteen-hundreds  saw  the  Italians  themselves 
taking  to  the  game  oi  condottieri.  Thus  in  1379  was  formed 
the  famous  company  of  St.  George  by  Alberigo  da  Barblano, 
a  noble  of  Romagno,  to  which  only  Italians  were  admitted, 
and  which  produced  Braccio  and  Sforza,  the  two  great 
Italian  commanders  of  the  fourteen-hundreds. 

The  thirteen-hundreds  beheld  Florence  rent  with  con- 
tinual strife  of  class  against  class,  and  family  against  family, 
for  power.      The  expulsion  of  the  Duke  of  Athens  saw 

SI 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN  the  Ghibelline  nobles  of  Florence  deprived  of  all  power, 
3F  which   passed  to  the  two   orders   of  the  Greater  and   the 

MODERN  Lesser  guilds.  The  Greater  guilds  decided  to  seize  power 
PAINTING  i^y  stealth.  By  the  law  of  1301,  any  person  accused  of 
being  a  Ghibelline  was  not  to  hold  office.  To  carry  this 
out,  the  Ostracism  was  created  in  Florence,  whereby  a 
charge  brought  against  any  man,  supported  by  six  wit- 
nesses, compelled  the  priors  to  strike  the  name  of  the 
accused  from  public  service.  The  wealthy  burgess  class 
of  the  greater  guilds  forthwith  systematically  struck  off 
the  names  of  all  men  of  the  lesser  guilds  who  came  up 
for  office.  But  the  plutocrats  had  no  sooner  won  to 
power  than  the  family  feud  of  the  Albizzi  and  the  Ricci 
broke  out.  The  Albizzi  got  the  whip  hand  of  the  Ricci 
by  applying  the  "  admonition "  of  Ghibellinism  against 
them ;  until,  by  1 378,  the  rejected  had  grown  into  so 
strong  a  party  that  they  were  becoming  dangerous.  The 
Albizzi  had  become  reckless.  In  May,  Salvestro  de'  Medici, 
of  the  Ricci  faction,  was  drawn  as  gonfalonier ;  but  retired 
on  the  outburst  of  a  revolt  of  the  people,  headed  by  the 
Ricci  ;  the  mob  swept  all  before  it,  under  the  leadership  of 
the  noble-hearted  and  great-souled  Michel  Lando,  a  poor 
woolcomber  of  the  people,  who  was  made  gonfalonier, 
restored  order,  extended  democracy,  and  having  proved 
himself  a  statesman,  modestly  retired  from  office.  A  violent 
reaction  in  1382,  however,  undid  all  the  good,  and  brought 
the  Albizzi  back  to  power. 

From  1382,  for  fifty  years,  Florence  came  under  the 
power  of  an  ever-narrowing  oligarchy.  Under  the  resolute 
guidance  of  this  oligarchy,  however,  Florence  heroically 
fought  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti  of  Milan,  and  saved  the 
city.     She  added  to  her  dominions. 

54 


OF    PAINTING 


The  vital  essence  of  the  Florentine's  life  was  his  love  OF  THE 
of  liberty.     A  large  body  of  the   rejected   merchants,  to-  ITALY   IN 
gether  with  the  whole  people,  bitterly  resented  the  pluto-  WHICH 
cratic   manipulation  of  the  government   by  lot  under   the  ^^,,„      ^~ 
Albizzi.      The   burden   of  taxation  fell   terribly  upon   the 
people — as  it  always  does  upon  the  governed.     The  cause  cQjyiFD 
of  the  people  grew  to  be  associated  with  the  family  of  the 
Medici.      In  the  fourteen-hundred-and-twenties,  Giovanni 
de'  Medici,  a  money-changer  and  rich  banker,  was  grown 
to  be  regarded  as  the  leader  of  the  popular  party.     He  was 
the  richest  man  in   Florence.     He  bought  popularity  with 
astute  caution.     He  died  in  1429,  leaving  two  sons,  Cosimo 
and  Lorenzo. 

The  defeat  of  the  Florentines  under  Malatesta  at 
Zagonara  in  1424,  shook  the  Albizzi  influence.  Rinaldo 
degli  Albizzi's  disastrous  and  unjust  attack  on  Lucca  failed, 
and  further  discredited  the  plutocrats.  Cosimo  de'  Medici 
boldly  came  forward  as  his  rival.  In  the  September  of 
1432,  Rinaldo  determined  on  violence,  seized  Cosimo  de* 
Medici,  and  tried  him  for  his  life.  The  Medici  moneys 
bought  the  magistracy ;  he  was  exiled  for  ten  years  to 
Padua,  and  Lorenzo  for  five  years  to  Venice.  But  Rinaldo 
alienated  the  plutocrats  by  fearing  to  abolish  the  Medicean 
income-tax  of  a  seventh  of  all  incomes,  which  hit  the  rich 
as  much  as  the  poor.  His  disastrous  defeats  in  war  brought 
about  a  rising  of  the  people ;  the  Medici  were  recalled ; 
and  Rinaldo  and  his  son  and  about  seventy  partisans  were 
banished — few  ever  saw  Florence  again. 

COSIMO  DE'  MEDICI 

Cosimo  de'  Medici  entered  Florence  on  the  6th  of 
October  1434;  and  from  that  day  the  history  of  the  city, 
for  three  hundred  years,  is  the  history  of  the  Medici. 

55 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN         Cosimo  de'  Medici  was  a  man  of  infinite  craft.     He 
OF  slowly   and   stealthily  acquired   supreme    power,  by   every 

MODERN  outward  show  of  democracy.  All  outward  pride  of 
PAINTING  despotism  he  carefully  avoided.  He  lived  in  his  old 
residence,  nor  put  on  richer  apparel  nor  employed  more 
sumptuous  forms  of  living.  He  won  powerful  families  to 
his  personal  service.  His  policy  was  a  calculated  scheme 
of  proscription,  but  he  saw  to  it  that  all  harsh  proposals 
came  not  from  him  but  from  his  followers.  He  hounded 
the  Albizzi  like  vermin.  He  used  the  taxes,  as  assassins 
use  the  knife,  to  destroy  his  enemies.  He  saw  through 
the  conceit  of  Luca  Pitti,  employed  him  to  overthrow  the 
liberty  of  the  people,  knowing  that  his  elation  at  the  act 
would  ruin  him.  By  the  grim  irony  of  events,  Pitti  built 
his  famous  palace  on  the  hill  of  San  Giorgio,  south  of  the 
Arno,  which  was  to  become  the  home  of  the  Grand  Dukes 
of  Tuscany !  He  set  aside  the  ancient  enmity  of  Milan  by 
financing  Francesco  Sforza,  who  thus  came  to  the  lordship 
of  Milan  in  1450. 

PIERO  DE'  MEDICI 

Cosimo  de*  Medici's  death  in  1464  left  his  only 
surviving  son,  Piero,  in  power.  Piero  was  middle-aged 
and  in  feeble  health  ;  and  his  five  years  of  rule  saw  the 
split  in  the  Medicean  party,  whereby  Pitti,  Veroni, 
Acciaiuoli,  and  Soderini  withdrew  from  Piero's  support. 
From  Pitti's  huge  palace  this  party  was  nicknamed  the 
Mountain^  the  Medici  party  the  Plain.  But  Piero's  son, 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  was  early  to  prove  his  capacity. 
Saving  his  father  from  an  ugly  ambush,  the  opposing  party 
were  overthrown  by  astute  statecraft,  and  1468  saw  the 
Medici  established  in  possession  of  Florence.  On  the 
death  of  Piero  de'  Medici,  on  the   3rd  of  December  1469, 

56 


OF   PAINTING 


Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  his  son,  only  in  his  twenty-first  year,  OF   THE 
was  acclaimed  fit  to  exercise  the  power  of  his  father  and  ITALY   IN 
grandfather  ;     and,    after    a    becoming    show    of   modesty,  WHICH 
accepted   the   burden.      He   was    now   as   much   Duke   of  THE   RE- 

Florence  as  though  he  bore  the  title.  NAISSANCE 

^  BLOS- 

LORENZO  DE'  MEDICI  SOMED 

Lorenzo  boldly  assumed  the  bearing  of  a  prince,  married 
into  the  princely  Roman  family  of  the  Orsini,  and  estab- 
lished a  magnificent  court.  He  became  a  patron  of  art 
and  letters.  He  foolishly  broke  with  the  tradition  of  his 
house,  and  made  overtures  to  his  ancient  enemy,  Venice; 
the  which  alienated  his  old  ally,  the  king  of  Naples.  His 
rapid  seizure  of  offices  of  state  aroused  the  rivalry  of  the  noble 
house  of  the  Pazzi.  In  1478  a  conspiracy  was  headed  by 
Jacopo  Pazzi,  and  secretly  supported  by  Pope  Sixtus  iv.  and 
the  king  of  Naples,  whereby  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  and  his 
brother  Giuliano  de'  Medici,  beloved  of  the  people,  were 
to  be  assassinated.  Mercenaries  were  hired,  headed  by 
Giovanni  Battista  da  Montesecco,  to  slay  the  brothers  and 
seize  the  magistracy.  It  was  essential  to  kill  both  brothers. 
At  last  the  chance  came  on  Sunday  the  26th  of  April  1478, 
when,  both  brothers  being  present  in  the  cathedral,  the 
elevation  of  the  Host  was  made  the  signal  to  strike. 
Montesecco  refused  to  commit  sacrilege  by  shedding  blood 
in  a  church  ;  and  two  priests  took  his  place.  They  had 
not  the  skill.  At  the  tinkling  of  the  altar-bell,  Giuliano 
was  struck  down,  Francesco  Pazzi  dealing  the  death-blow. 
But  Lorenzo,  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  escaping  in  the 
scuffle,  reached  the  sacristy,  where  his  followers  slammed 
the  bronze  doors  in  the  face  of  the  murderers.  Archbishop 
Salviati,  who  had  gone  to  the  Palazzo  to  direct  the  seizure 
of  the  magistrates,  showed  such  eagerness  that  he  was 
VOL.  I — H  57 


A   HISTORY 


THE  DAWN  suspected  and  bound,  with  his  followers.     Vengeance  was 
OF  swift  and  terrible.     Jacopo  Pazzi,  rushing  into  the  street, 

MODERN  led  a  procession  shouting  "Liberty!  ";  but  the  people  turned 
PAlNTlNCj  Qj^  ^j^j  seized  the  leaders  and  hustled  them  to  the  palace. 
News  arriving  that  Giuliano  was  dead,  ropes  were  put  about 
the  necks  of  Francesco  Pazzi,  the  Archbishop  of  Pisa,  and 
the  other  prisoners,  and  they  were  hanged  forthwith  from 
the  windows.  The  family  of  the  Pazzi,  except  Guglielmo, 
who  had  married  Lorenzo's  sister,  were  blotted  out.  The 
two  priests  were  dragged  forth  from  the  sanctuary  of  a 
monastery  to  which  they  had  fled,  and  were  barbarously 
murdered  by  the  mob.  Montesecco,  who  had  hurried 
from  Florence,  was  overtaken,  and  after  giving  evidence  of 
the  Pope's  complicity,  was  executed.  Not  one  of  the 
murderers  escaped.  One  who  had  fled  to  Constantinople 
was  t"acked  by  a  spy,  brought  back,  and  publicly  executed. 
The  dastardly  affair  established  Lorenzo  in  the  hearts 
of  the  people.  But  Rome  and  Naples  hurled  their  vast 
resources  against  him  and  Florence.  In  spite  of  a  splendid 
resistance,  Florence  lay  at  the  mercy  of  the  investing  troops, 
when  Lorenzo  decided  on  an  heroic  act.  In  the  December 
of  1479,  he  determined  to  save  the  city  that  had  fallen 
upon  evil  days  for  his  sake.  He  set  out  for  Naples,  to 
make  his  peace  with  Ferdinand,  the  king,  hoping  to  show 
that  he  repented  of  his  Venetian  folly.  He  was  com- 
pletely successful. 

Thence,  Lorenzo  never  looked  back.     He  became  for 
twelve  years  the  first  statesman  in  Italy. 

In  1492  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  died.  It  was  the  year  of 
the  discovery  of  America  ;  the  year  of  the  conquest  of 
Granada ;  the  year  that  Alexander  vi.  was  elected  Pope  of 
Rome — one  of  the  most  momentous  years  in  the  history 
of  the  world. 
S8 


OF   PAINTING 

THE  FOLLIES  OF  THE  SECOND 
PIERO  DE'   MEDICI 

The  fate  of  all  Italy  hung  in  the  balance,  OF  THE 

And  there  succeeded  to  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  his  ITALY   IN 
vulgar,  foolish,  and   brutish   son,  Piero  de'  Medici.     The  WHICH 

despotism   of  the    Medici    rested    on   statecraft    alone — no   ^^^   ^^" 

•       u     }    A    ^u  '         .u     -.  D-  J  J    u     NAISSANCE 

armies   backed   their   authority.       riero    was    dowered    by  r>T  ^v^ 

every  gift  of  folly  to  ruin  his  house  ;  and  he  did  his  best.  SOMED 

Swaggering  as  prince,  arrogantly  disdainful  of  citizenship, 

he   played   the   prince  with   a   rattle.      An    Orsini  by   his 

mother,  and  mated   to   an  Orsini,   he  became  the  tool  of 

Naples,  thereby  alienating  Ludovico  Sforza  of  Milan,  and 

driving   Sforza  into  his  desperate  appeal  to  France  which 

brought  Charles  viii.  and  his  Frenchmen  swarming  into 

Lombardy. 

At  the  coming  of  the  French,  our  second  Piero  proved  a 

cur ;  his  flight  from  Florence  brought  back  a  few  troublous 

years  of  republicanism  to  the  city,  before  she  relapsed  again 

under  the  sway  of  the  Medici. 


59 


THE  PAINTERS  OF  CENTRAL  ITALY 


SCHOOL    OF   SIENA 

D  U  C  C  I  O 

Before   J255  ?     _     131^ 

SiMONE    MaRTINX 
1283         -         1344 


The  Lorenzetti  Zippo  Memmi 

^-  1357 
TADDEO    DI    BARTOLO 

Lorenzo  D  0  m  e  n  i  c  0 

Vecchietta  di   B  ar  t  0  lo 

1412-1480  1400     -     1449 

,,       I        .  „  i  I  Matteo  da  Siena 

Neroccto  Benvenuto  Francesco      1435     -     UQS 

da   Land t  da    Giovanni  di    Giorgio 

1447-1500  i436?-i5i9  ,439_,502 

Bernardino 

F    U   N    G  A  I 

1460-1516 


BAZZI  arrives  in  Sic 


Girolamo  Paccliieretto 

delPacchia  1474- 1540  | ' 

'^""-'535-^  Baldassare  Domenico 

Peruzzi  Beccafumi 

1481-1537  1485-1531 


FLIT 
THROUGH 


CHAPTER    V 

WHEREIN  WE  SEE  THE  RENAISSANCE  FLIT 
THROUGH  SIENA 

Legend  long  gave  to  Florence  the  first  Italian  painter  of  WHEREIN 
genius.       Some    Byzantine   painters,   so   'twas   vowed,   had  WE   SEE 
been   called   to   Florence  about    1260,  and  set   aflame   the  THE   RE- 
genius  of  Cimabue,  who  created  the  Italian  art  ;   and  he,  J^^j^^^^"^^^^ 
wandering    amongst    the    hills    about    Florence,    found    a 
shepherd  lad,  Giotto,  scratching  the  forms  of  sheep  upon  ctVma' 
a   rock,   and   straightway   brought   him   to    his   house   and 
taught  him  the  ways  and  craft  and  mysteries  of  an  artist. 
Part  of  these  pretty  tales  is  fabled  romance.     Cimabue  was 
a  w^orker  in  mosaic,  working  in  the  manner  of  the  Byzan- 
tines to  make  pictures  by  setting  small  cubes  of  coloured 
stones  together  into  a  mortared  surface  of  walls  and  pave- 
ments.    And  if,  as  Dante  bears  witness,  he  painted  pictures, 
none  have  come  down  to  us.     At  any  rate,  if  they  exist, 
the  Rucellai  Madonna  is  not  one  of  them. 

THE    SCHOOL    OF    SIENA 

Early  Sienese  painting  brought  forth  the  first  Italian 
genius.  'Tis  true,  the  first  real  painter  of  genius  in 
Florence  was  Giotto  ;  but  he  was  not  the  first  genius 
of  painting  in  Italy.  We  must  go  a  little  farther  back, 
if  not  greatly  farther  afield,  tu  neighbouring  Siena,  the 
southern  rival  city  to  Florence  ;  and  seek  in  Siena  for 
Italy's  beginnings  in  the  art  of  painting  and  for  her  first 
genius    in    Duccio.      For,    v^hilst    Duccio's    feet    are    still 

63 


A   HISTORY 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


firm  set  on  Byzantine  ground,  his  head  is  raised  into  the 

Renaissance. 

DUCCIO 
i255?-i3i9 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  famed  altar-piece  of 
the  Rucellai  Madonna  at  S.  Maria  Novella  in  Florence 
was  said  to  have  aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  the  city,  but  so 
far  from  its  being  the  work  of  Cimabue,  it  is  undoubtedly 
the  work  of  the  Sienese  painter,  Duccio  di  Buoninsegna, 
of  the  next  generation,  and  but  some  ten  years  older  than 
Giotto.  This  work  had  a  large  influence  on  Florentine 
painting,  and  a  very  considerable  influence  on  the  art  of 
the  younger  man  Giotto. 

Duccio  di  Buoninsegna,  who  lived  from  about  1255 
to  1 3 19,  who  at  any  rate  was  working  from  about  1280 
to  his  death  in  13 19,  not  only  was  the  first  master  of  the 
Sienese  school,  but  its  supreme  painter  ;  and  in  age  the 
"  father  of  modern  painting,"  since  both  in  Florence  as  well 
as  his  native  Siena  his  influence  was  very  great.  He  had 
undoubtedly  studied  and  been  trained  in  the  Byzantine 
tradition  of  painting.  But,  fettered  as  he  was,  by  Byzan- 
tinism,  he  was  the  first  Italian  to  create  the  picture  as 
a  whole,  to  make  figures  into  pictorial  groups — and  he 
did  these  things  with  something  of  grandeur  in  style,  and 
a  certain  breadth  of  handling  as  regards  his  use  of  line 
and  draughtsmanship.  Duccio,  it  may  be  said,  was  the 
first  painter  to  step  from  the  painted  illuminations  of  the 
Dark  Ages,  and  to  employ  painting  to  larger  and  fuller 
ends.  He  put  from  him  the  gilt  Byzantine  backgrounds, 
and  painted  in  their  place  architecture  and  landscape.  He 
made  his  figures  human  ;  and  rid  figure  and  apparel  of 
their  Byzantine  rigidity. 

Duccio's    most   famous  work    is   the   huge   altar-piece, 

64 


ri 

SliMONE    MARTINI 
1283  -  1344 

SIENESE  SCHOOL 

"CHRIST  BEARING  HIS  CROSS" 
(Jesus-Christ  marchant  au  Calvaire) 

(Louvre) 

Christ,  preceded  by  the  executioner,  soldiers,  and  two  children,  is  bearinor 
His  Cross  to  Calvary.  He  is  attended  by  a  large  crowd,  in  which  may  be 
recognised  the  Virgin  Mary,  in  blue  robes,  supported  by  St.  John  ;  St. 
Mary  Magdalene  in  red,  with  her  long  hair  falling  over  her  shoulders, 
raises  her  hands  in  grief. 

Painted  in  tempera  on  panel.     10  in.  x  4  in.  (o"25  x  010). 


OF   PAINTING 


the  Maesta,  painted  on  the  panels  of  the  reredos  for  the  WHEREIN 

cathedral,  to-day  in  the  Opera  del  Duomo  of  Siena,  which,  WE  SEE 

being  completed  in  131 1,  was  carried  through  the  streets  THE   RE- 

to  be  placed  in  the  cathedral  on  the  oth  of  the  Tune  of  NAISSANCE 

•  •  .      .  FLIT 

that   year   in   solemn    procession,   to   the   ringing   of  bells, 

the  city  making  public  holiday,  all  shops  and  offices  closed,  cypT^aa 
and  the  people  turning  out  in  gala  dress.  And  it  is  likely 
enough  that  this  event  was  stolen  by  Florentine  Vasari  to  fix 
upon  Florence  the  credit  of  the  Rucellai  Madonna^  and,  for 
the  same  reason,  the  Florentine  probably  filched  the  credit  of 
Duccio,  in  order  to  put  the  picture  upon  his  fellow-towns- 
man Cimabue.  It  is  at  least  strange  that  there  is  no  record 
of  so  great  an  event  in  the  Florentine  chronicles  of  the 
day — no  hint  of  so  important  an  event  amidst  the  archives 
that  record  far  lesser  things  ;  still  more  strange  that  the 
procession  is  repeated  detail  by  detail  in  Vasari's  stolen 
story. 

After  Duccio,  Siena  brought  forth  several  painters  of 
consequence,  of  whom  his  tw^o  pupils,  Simone  Martini, 
Segna  di  Buonaventura,  the  Lorenzetti,  and  Taddeo  di 
Bartolo  are  the  most  famous. 

Simone  Martini,  born  at  Siena  in  1283,  and  dying  at 
Avignon  in  1344,  is  best  known  by  his  Maesth  fresco  in 
the  Council  Room  of  the  Communal  Palace  of  Siena,  and 
by  the  equestrian  portrait  of  Guidoriccio  da  Fogliano.  We 
know  from  Petrarch  that  he  painted  Laura.  His  fame 
was  wide  in  his  day;  and  Siena,  Pisa,  Assisi,  Orvieto, 
Naples,  and  Avignon  hold  his  work. 

Simone  Martini  was  long  confused  with  his  wife's 
brother  Lippo  Memmi  (dying  about  1357),  his  follower 
and  assistant,  who  was  also  the  pupil  of  Duccio. 

Of  the  two  brothers,  Pietro  and  Ambrogio  Lorenzetti, 
VOL.  I — I  65 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


A   HISTORY 

the  last  of  the  Sienese  painters  of  its  golden  early  period, 
little  is  known — when  they  were  born  or  when  died — and 
the  influence  of  Florence  is  strong  upon  their  artistry. 
Both  wrought  their  art  in  Pisa  as  well  as  in  Florence  and 
Siena.  The  elder  brother  Pietro's  name  is  first  known  in 
1335;  he  painted  many  frescoes,  but  most  have  vanished, 
except  in  the  lower  church  of  S.  Francesco  at  Assisi. 
Several  easel  pictures  remain.  The  younger  brother, 
Ambrogio,  comes  down  to  us  with  his  masterpiece  of  the 
allegorical  frescoes  of  Good  and  Bad  Government  in  the  Hall 
of  Peace  at  the  Palazzo  Pubblico  of  Siena,  begun  in  1337, 
and  completed  a  couple  of  years  after. 

Of  Taddeo  di  Bartolo  (about  1362  to  1422)  his 
most  famed  painting  is  the  fresco  of  the  Apostles  visiting 
the  Virgin  in  the  church  of  S.  Francesco  at  Pisa,  remark- 
able for  its  poetic  conception  of  loving  adoration,  and  its 
movement  of  floating  figures. 

There  is  something  astounding — if  aught  can  astound 
in  Italy  of  the  Renaissance — that  Siena,  notorious  for  its 
vanity,  its  constant  family  brawls,  its  delicate  living,  should 
have  uttered  through  its  art  a  passionate  piety,  a  constant 
religious  fervour,  were  it  not  that  the  people  were  im- 
pressionable, highly  emotional,  quickly  roused  to  passion 
whether  of  hate  or  love,  whether  fierce  pietistic  ardour 
or  factional  violence. 

Siena  was  to  be  a  bitter  rival  to  Florence;  but  to 
fade  away  before  the  rapidly  increasing  greatness  of  that 
city.  And  as  with  the  beautiful  old  city,  so  with  her 
workers,  who  never  came  to  the  same  splendour  as  the 
genius  of  Florence.  But  though  they  fell  short  of  the 
power  of  the  great  Florentines,  the  rare  poetic  fervour  of 
the  works  of  genius  that  her  sons  brought  forth  outshines 
the  achievement  of  Florence  in  tenderness,  exquisiteness, 
66 


OF   PAINTING 


and  passion — in  a  sense  of  elegance  and  a  feeling  for  human  WHEREIN 

beauty.     They  had  the  decorative  vision  and  instinct  for  WE   SEE 

splendour.     And  sensitive  art,  founded  on  the  habit  of  narra-  THE   RE- 

tive  illustration,  which  had  grown  out  of  the  biblical  habit  -^^^^^^^^^ 

.  FLIT 

of  the  mediaeval  church,  was  theirs  always  in  abundance. 

But  they  never  won  to  the  Florentine  grip  on  the  human  cipx-A 

figure.     They  had   always  a   feeling   for    colour   that   was 

alien   to   and   lacking    in    Florence.      Her   sons   essaved   to 

utter  the  greater  emotions  without  disciplining  their  hand's 

skill  to  the  perfecting  of  their  craftsmanship,  and  winning 

to  command  of  form ;  and  the  school  early  fell  into  decay, 

more  concerned  with  violence  of  feeling  and  sentimentality 

than  with  their  power  to  utter  their  emotions,  so  that  by 

1400  the  genius  of  Siena  had  shot  its  bolt,  and  had  naught 

more  to  utter. 

Siena,  although   a  Tuscan  city  like    Florence,   showed 

from  the  first  an  art  quite  different  from  that  of  her  great 

rival.     Her  sense  of  colour  and  her  pietistic  fervour  were 

alien  to  Florence.     And  the  two  cities  wrought  side  by  side 

a  strangely  different  art,  which  had  as  strange  influences. 


67 


CHAPTER     VI 


OF  THE  COMING  OF  ART  INTO  FLORENCE 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


To  get  back  to  Florence  :  the  Florentines  were  made  of 
far  different  stuff  from  the  Sienese.  Of  the  Sienese  ecstasies 
and  spiritual  exaltation  they  knew  nothing.  A  sober,  sane, 
and  level-headed — indeed  calculating — people,  they  left 
mysticism  to  Siena,  and  prided  themselves  on  knowledge 
and  intellect. 

GIOTTO 
1266-1337 
That  Giotto  was  the  first  Florentine  painter  of  genius 
there  is  no  question.  Some  ten  years  younger  than  Duccio, 
whether  he  were  influenced  by  his  Sienese  contemporary  is 
not  known,  but  that  Rucellai  Madonna  hotly  suggests  the 
likelihood.  Whether  so  or  not,  the  Byzantine  influence 
which  Duccio  could  not  wholly  rid  from  himself,  Giotto 
absolutely  put  from  him  ;  and,  by  consequence,  Giotto,  as 
claimed  by  the  Florentines,  may  be  said  to  be  the  first  true 
painter  of  the  Renaissance.  Born  at  Colle,  by  Florence,  in 
1266,  Giotto  di  Bondone  died  in  1337.  A  shepherd's  boy 
he  was,  and  that  his  gifts  were  discovered  by  Cimabue,  and 
that  Cimabue  took  him  into  his  studio,  seem  to  have  been 
true  enough,  though  the  influence  is  hard  to  discover.  He 
resisted  all  Byzantine  habits  and  tricks  of  style  ;  his  life  in 
the  open  with  the  flocks  he  tended  had  revealed  nature  to 
him  as  his  supreme  master,  and  the  moods  of  the  hillsides 
guided  him  in  his  art's  utterance.  In  Giotto  we  have 
the  first  clear  note  of  the  new  spirit  that  was  being  breathed 
68 


PAINTING 


across  the  land.     In  the  work  of  his  hands  is  seen  that  grasp  OF  THE 
of  the  figure  as  a  real  form,  individual  and  capable  of  move-  COMING 
ment — to  him  was  revealed  the  craft  to  display  the  body  OF   ART 
as  being  more  than  a  flat  decorative  surface.     Whatsoever  ^NTO 
his  v^eaknesses  of  drawing,  if  his  heads  be  vulgar  and  his  FLORENCE 
draperies  heavy,  at  least  his  direct  habit  of  going  straight 
to  nature  instead  of  founding  his  vision  upon,  and  enslaving 
his  hands  to,  the  tricks  of  thumb  of  the   Byzantine  con- 
vention, led  him  to  a  vigorous  and  poetic  statement  and  a 
grip  of  the  essential  fact  that  art  is  the  utterance  of  life — 
and  his>  frescoes  of  the  Lfe  of  St.  Francis  at  Assisi,  as  well  as 
the  frescoes  in  the  church  of  Santa  Croce  at  Florence  and 
at  Padua,  are  famous.     What  he  owed  to  this  Cimabue  of 
legend   it   would   indeed  be   difficult   to  say ;    but  what  is 
certain    is   that    he    was    deeply    indebted    to    the    Gothic 
workers,  particularly  to  the  Pisan  sculptor  Giovanni  Pisano, 
a  realist  steeped  in   the   Gothic   spirit   of  France  and  the 
Rhine,  who  died  in  1329. 

Now,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  sculptures  known  as 
low-reliefs  by  Giovanni  Pisano  affected  the  new  revelation 
in  painting  more  easily  than  might  at  first  appear.  Paint- 
ing until  the  end  of  the  Byzantine  years,  1300,  had  con- 
cerned itself  with  the  flat  surface  decoration  alone.  The 
low-reliefs  of  Pisano's  sculpture,  and  the  daily  communion 
with  nature,  turned  Giotto's  eyes  to  the  fact  that  figures  and 
objects  in  nature  have  depths  as  well  as  the  height  and  width 
of  the  flat  surface  on  which  he  painted,  and  the  low-reliefs 
by  their  play  of  shadows  revealed  forms ;  and  these  truths 
forthwith  convinced  him  that  if  sculpture  in  a  next-to-flat 
employment  of  it  could  be  made  to  suggest  the  roundness 
of  the  fully  sculptured  forms,  so  also  could  painting  on  a  flat 
surface  be  made  to  suggest  depth. 

At  once  he  created  the  endeavour  of  painters  to  paint 

69 


A   HISTORY 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


the  figure  and  the  objects  in  nature,  instead  of  merely  being 
flat  to  the  eye,  so  that  they  looked  as  if  one  could  pass  the 
hand  round  and  about  them.  In  fact,  he  put  forth  his 
cunning  of  craftsmanship  to  try  and  paint  on  the  flat  wall  or 
panel  in  such  a  way  as  to  suggest  the  depth  of  things  as 
they  are  seen  in  that  equally  flat  surface,  a  mirror,  and  so 
aroused  the  illusion  as  if  one  could  touch  the  forms,  and  feel 
out  into  the  deeps  of  atmosphere  about  them. 

Whatever  the  influences  that  trained  his  skill  of  hand, 
Giotto's  supreme  master  was  Nature.  To  nature  he  turned 
for  the  forms  and  colours  wherewith  to  clothe  the  works  of 
his  imagination  and  whereby  to  utter  that  which  he  felt. 

And  now  we  realise  the  significance  of  Dante's  oft- 
quoted  couplet,  which,  whether  Dante  himself  realised  its 
full  significance  or  not,  gives  just  the  exact  fact  that  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  Byzantine  Art  with  them,  were  flown, 
and  a  new  and  real  Art  was  born. 

Giotto  struck  at  once  the  wide  gamut  of  art  which 
became  so  marked  a  feature  of  the  great  Florentines. 
Dowered  with  a  large  intellect,  and  fitted  by  strength  of 
body  for  sustained  toil,  enthusiastic  for  his  art,  he  ranged 
through  its  several  realms,  filling  Italy  with  the  work  of  his 
hands,  and  creating  a  vigorous  standard  for  those  that  came 
after  him.  From  Padua,  where  he  painted  the  Legend  of 
Mary  and  the  Life  of  Christy  to  Rome,  his  frescoes  adorn  near 
upon  every  great  city.  In  Florence  he  designed  her  beauti- 
ful bell-tower,  and  painted  the  Stories  of  St.  Francis  and 
St.  John  in  the  chapel  of  S.  Croce. 

His  sound  common-sense  and  genial  temper,  his  wide 
humour,  directed  an  unwearying  energy  to  astounding 
achievement,  and  rid  the  Florentine  genius  at  its  very 
beginnings  from  ascetic  formalism,  taught  it  to  go  direct 
to  life  for  inspiration,  and  rooted  it  deep  in  the  dramatic 
70 


OF   PAINTING 

sense.  Thus  his  greatest  gift  to  Florence  was  the  very  OF  THE 
essence  of  all  art — vitality.  At  once  the  Madonna  is  above  COMING 
all  things  maternal — she  smiles  upon  her  babe.      He  made  ^^   ART 

T  TVT  T^  /~\ 

art  human  ;    and,  in  the  doing,  humanised  religion.      He  „ 

.  .  .  °      .  FLORENCE 

saw   that   action   and   spacing   were    vital    to   the   pictured 

surface  ;     he    painted    before    his    simple    faith    had    been 

touched  by  classic  doublings  ;  he  painted  for  a  people  who 

had  no   books,  who,  indeed,  could  not   read — who   learnt 

through  their  vision  from  pictured  things. 

Sculptor,    painter,     and     architect — he     designed     the 

Campanile   in   Florence — ranged    widely,   creating   his   art 

in  Rome,   Padua,  Verona,  Arezzo,  Milan,  and  elsewhere, 

as   well   as   in    Florence,    his    influence    became    supreme 

throughout  the  greater  part  of  Italy,  and  dominated  Italian 

art  until  about  1400. 

THE    GIOTTESQUES 

On  the  death  of  Giotto,  his  large  empire  of  the  arts  fell 
away  amongst  his  brilliant  but  less  gifted  followers,  known 
to  history  as  the  Giottesques.  Of  these  the  Gaddi  of 
Florence,  Giottino,  Giovanni  da  Milano,  Bernardo 
Daddi,  Antonio  Veneziano,  Puccio  Capanna,  Francesco 
DA  Volterra,  Buonamico  Buffalmaco,  the  Spinelli  family, 
Lorenzo  Monaco,  and  the  rest,  not  only  show  by  their  names 
his  wide  influence,  but  they  carried  his  message  throughout 
all  Italy.  They  pushed  forward  his  achievement  no  whit, 
nor  reached  to  his  heights  of  artistry.  Taddeo  Gaddi,  his 
favourite  pupil  and  godson,  is  perhaps  the  best  type  of  a 
Giottesque. 

ORCAGNA 
1308  -  1368 

The  greatest  of  them  all  was  the  richly  gifted  Andrea 
di  Cione,  better  known  as  Orcagna,  born  about  1308,  and 

71 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


PAINTING 

dying  in  1368,  goldsmith,  sculptor,  architect,  and  painter, 
who,  a  pupil  of  Andrea  Pisano,  founded  his  style  of  painting 
on  Giotto.  Orcagna's  altarpiece  and  frescoes  of  The  Last 
Judgment  and  Paradise  in  S.  Maria  Novella  at  Florence 
prove  him  also  to  be  not  w^ithout  a  debt  to  Ambrogio 
Lorenzetti  of  Siena  by  their  Sienese  sense  of  beauty  and 
elegance.  For  Orcagna  vv^ould  paint  Paradise  as  well  as 
Hell — the  beauty  of  his  faces,  and  his  employment  of  faces 
in  profile,  face  after  face,  is  very  characteristic,  giving  an 
effect  as  of  petals  of  flowers. 

However,  if  Giotto's  influence  after  his  death,  during  the 
remaining  thirteen-hundreds,  saw  a  tendency  to  break  up 
into  a  decadence,  if  brilliant  decadence — that  is  to  say  that 
his  followers  but  developed  his  manner  and  saw  only 
through  his  spectacles  instead  of  going  to  Nature  herself 
— Giotto's  influence  must  not  be  dismissed  with  the 
Giottesques.  The  Giottesques,  spread  thoughout  Italy, 
were  ingenious  illustrators  of  the  Scriptures,  men  of  con- 
siderable invention ;  but,  concentrating  their  attention  on 
narrative  or  story,  instead  of  upon  life  as  they  saw  it,  and 
steeped  in  the  mere  tricks  of  thumb  of  Giotto,  they  made 
no  advance  upon  the  art  of  their  master.  Nevertheless 
Giottism,  though  it  looked  as  though  it  were  to  dwindle 
away  in  the  Giottesques,  was  to  inspire  one  great  artist 
before  it  passed  away — the  monk  Fra  Angelico  da 
FiESOLE — though  in  some  ways  he  put  back  his  hand  an 
hundred  years  into  the  spirit  of  Byzantine  art,  of  which 
Giotto  had  rid  the  Italian  genius. 


72 


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Daniele  da  Volterra 
1509         -         1566 

Giorgia  Vasari 
1512    -    1574 


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FRA   ANGELICO 
1387         -         1455 

"VIRGIN  AND  CHILD" 

(Uffizi) 

Here  we  see  the  gentle  friar's  simple  faith  treated  with  childlike  sim- 
plicity j  and  it  will  be  noticed  that  the  Child  is  still  treated  as  a  manikin, 
not  as  an  infant. 


4 


o       o 


CHAPTER    VII 
OF  THE  TALE  OF  THE  SAINTLY  DOMINICAN 

FRA   ANGELICO 

1387        -        1455 
The  saintly  Dominican,  Era  Angelico  of  Fiesole,  born  in  OF  THE 
1387,  and  dying  in  1455,  covered  by  his  working  life  the  TALE   OF 
first   half  century  of  the  fourteen-hundreds.      Dominican  THE 
though  he  was,  the  gentle  and  pious  art  of  Era  Angelico  SAINTLY 
was  superbly  fitted  to  guide  painting  into  the  utterance  of  -^^^^^1- 
the  gentle  Christianity  preached  by  St.   Francis  of  Assisi. 
The  simple  joys  of  belief,  the  very  sense  of  happiness  there 
is  in  the  suffering  for  one's  faith,  the  exquisite  comfort  of 
being  of  the  chosen,  these  emotions  and  sensations  found 
their  artist  in  Era  Angelico.     His  was  a  cloistral  soul,  rapt 
in  the  mystic  beatitude  of  reverent  and  undisturbed  faith  in 
his  creed.     He  accounted  it  sin  to  paint  from  the  nude  ; 
and  whilst  the  whole  artistry  of  his  age  was  bent  on  realism, 
Angelico  sought  only  to  express  the  soul  of  man.    'Tis  true 
that  his  genius  is  not  without  insipidity,  his  sweetness  tends 
to  cloy  ;  his  soul  remains  the  soul  of  a  child,  and  is  not 
above    puerility  ;    and    his    eyes    ranged    ever    within    the 
narrow  parish  of  the  sheltered  cloister.     But  Era  Angelico 
must  not  be  judged  solely  by  the  simple  little  figures  of 
angels  and  the  like,  who  sing  to  fragile  lutes,  winging  their 
simple  flight  across  a  peaceful   background  of  gold.     He 
painted  demure  virgins  and  angels  incapable  of  sin,  until 
we  grow  weary  of  their  very  goodness ;  but  he  painted  also 
VOL.  I — K  73 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


A   HISTORY 

the  superb  frescoes  with  which  he  is  far  too  little  associated — 
his  Flight  into  Egypt  is  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  his  age  ; 
his  exquisite  Arinunciation  in  the  Church  of  Cortona  set  the 
style  for  many  a  masterpiece  of  the  years  to  follow ;  indeed, 
The  Flight  into  Egypt  proves  the  good  monk  a  painter  of 
such  considerable  gifts  as  are  all  too  often  overlooked,  both 
as  to  the  treatment  of  the  human  form  and  of  landscape, 
in  both  of  which  he  pushed  beyond  the  achievement  of 
Giotto,  even  if  he  lacked  the  power  of  the  greater  man. 

Fra  Angelico  is  therefore  not  a  painter  lightly  to  be 
disposed  of  as  the  mere  saintly  person  of  the  Italian 
chronicler  Vasari.  To  understand  the  early  dawning  of  the 
Renaissance  in  Italy,  it  is  well  to  study  the  significance  of 
the  saintly  Dominican. 

Fra  Angelico  is  held  by  some  to  be  the  connecting  link 
between  the  Gothic  or  Giottesque  period  of  Italian  painting 
and  the  dawn  of  the  Renaissance.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
first  low  light  of  dawn  had  flashed  across  Italian  skies  over 
Florence  with  the  coming  of  Giotto;  a  century  later,  1400, 
saw  Fra  Angelico  at  work  in  the  ever-growing  light  of  that 
dawn.  And  his  achievement  is  an  epitome  of  that  dawn. 
That  Fra  Angelico  could  rise  to  the  dramatic  from  his 
exquisite  choirs  of  angels,  he  proved  in  his  sublime  Trans- 
figuration in  San  Marco. 

Born  in  1387  at  Vicchio,  and  baptized  as  Guido,  he 
changed  his  name  to  Giovanni  (John)  on  entering  the 
convent  at  Fiesole  as  a  Dominican  in  1407,  in  his  twentieth 
year.  But  neither  his  parents  nor  he  himself  were  to  give 
him  the  name  by  which  he  was  to  come  to  fame.  Men 
called  him  Fra  Angelico — as  Vasari's  gossip  pages  hand 
down  to  us — in  that  "  he  gave  his  whole  life  to  God's 
service,  and  to  the  doing  of  good  works  for  mankind  and 
for  his  neighbour  " ;  and,  adds  Vasari,  "  he  was  entirely  free 

74 


OF   PAINTING 

from  guile,  and  holy  in  his  acts."     He  "  never  took  a  brush  OF   THE 
in  his  hand  until  he  had  first  offered  a  prayer ;  nor  painted  TALE   OF 
a  Crucifixion  without  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks."  THE 

CAT  TVT  T*  T  "V 

Youn?  as  he  was,  on  joinin?  the  Dominican  order,  Fra  __,   , 

.  .  DOMINI- 

Angelico  had  clearly  begun  his  career  as  painter,  probably  pAxj 

under  the  Giottesque  painter  and  miniaturist  Lorenzo 
Monaco.  In  that  pupilage  is  a  large  significance.  Lor- 
enzo Monaco  (i370?-i425)  was  a  Sienese ;  and  to  such 
must  largely  be  attributed  the  Sienese  tendency  of  Fra 
Angelico's  art.  It  accounts  for  much  in  the  art  of  An- 
gelico  that  created  a  side  stream  in  the  achievement  of 
Florence,  as  we  shall  see ;  not  only  his  early  work  as 
miniaturist  and  painter,  but  his  simplicity  of  colouring  and 
handling  of  the  brush,  reveal  the  style  of  the  illuminators. 
It  was  soon  after  joining  the  monastery  that  he  painted  the 
frescoes  at  Cortona  and  Foligno,  going  back  to  Fiesole  in 
his  thirty-first  year  (141 8). 

It  was  on  the  edge  of  his  fiftieth  year  that  Fra  Angelico 
went  to  Florence  to  the  convent  of  S.  Marco,  which,  at  the 
desire  of  Cosimo  de'  Medici,  had  been  given  by  the  Church 
to  the  Dominicans ;  and  here  it  was,  on  the  walls  of  the 
cloisters  and  cells  and  chapter-house,  that  Fra  Angelico 
painted  his  masterpieces  in  the  great  series  of  frescoes 
which  are  a  part  of  the  glory  of  that  wonderful  city. 
Ever  deeply  interested  in  the  art  activity  of  his  age,  he  had 
now  come  under  the  influence  of  Donatello  and  Masaccio, 
and  a  larger,  broader  style  had  entered  into  his  craftsman- 
ship, though  he  had  not  the  vigour  nor  strength  to  develop 
his  art  to  their  greater  range.  Just  as  he  had  in  his  heart 
a  hunger  for  the  older  miniaturists,  so  also  his  sensitive  soul 
made  him  more  akin  to  the  Sienese  masters  in  his  tender- 
ness and  his  eagerness  to  catch  purity  and  beauty  of  form. 
To  spiritual  exaltation  of  an  almost  feminine  intensity  he 

7S 


PAINTING 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


devoted  all  his  subtle  gifts,  so  that  his  name  is  interwoven 
with  the  phrases,  "  angelic  choirs  "  and  "  beatific  visions." 
The  more  robust  passions  and  more  compelling  emotions 
knew  him  not — so  that  when  he  dares  to  state  a  martyrdom, 
the  dramatic  sense  hangs  back  and  refuses  to  answer  his 
call.  But  a  vast  gulf  divides  his  early  from  his  later  work  ; 
and  his  eager  interest  in  the  sculpture  of  Ghiberti  and 
Donatello,  and  in  the  paintings  of  the  Brancacci  Chapel  by 
Masaccio,  which  were  about  to  take  Italian  art  forward  in 
a  giant  stride,  had  their  effect  upon  his  later  years,  wherein 
we  see  the  saintly  Dominican  step  into  the  light  of  the 
increasing  dawn  of  the  Renaissance  and  leave  Giottism 
behind  him. 

We  shall  see  Fra  Angelico's  most  famous  pupil,  Benozzo 
GozzoLi  (born  in  1420,  and  dying  near  the  end  of  the 
century,  in  1496),  prove  himself  by  his  frescoes  in  the 
Palazzo  Riccardi  at  Florence,  and  at  San  Gimignano  and 
at  Montefalco  in  Umbria,  one  of  the  most  exquisite  story- 
tellers of  the  Renaissance  ;  but  his  naivety  could  yield  only 
the  golden  dreams  of  childhood,  and  his  limits  made  the 
boundaries  of  too  slender  a  world  for  the  adventure  of  a 
great  artist. 

Indeed,  Giottism  threatened  to  end  the  art  of  Florence 
in  charming  and  delicate  decadence,  as  the  art  of  her  rival 
Siena  evaporated  in  mere  pietistic  illustrations,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  rise  of  two  Florentine  sculptors,  Ghiberti  and 
Donatello,  and  the  great  genius  of  the  youthful  painter 
Masaccio,  steeped  in  naturalism — going  to  the  vigorous 
school  of  nature  herself  for  inspiration,  and  giving  them- 
selves up  to  the  impressions  of  nature. 


76 


CHAPTER    VIII 

WHICH  TELLS  Of  THE  MIGHT  OF  HULKING  TOM 

The  Renaissance  has  dawned.      The  smoky  twilight  still  WHICH 
lingers  in  the  departing  shadows  of  the  night  of  the  Middle  TELLS   OF 
Ages.     But  the  sun  of  the  Renaissance  touches  the  edge  of  THE 
the  world  with  light.  MIGHT   OF 

We  shall  see  the  artists  striving  henceforth  to  master  ^'^^^^^G 
the  forms  of  nature — first  to  utter  the  depth  as  of  things 
seen  in  the  mirror  of  the  vision,  the  roundness  of  things — 
and  the  perspective  of  things  that  helps  to  give  this  illusion  of 
depth — then  the  life  of  the  day,  dress,  portraiture,  character. 
They  essay  landscape  and  architecture  for  backgrounds ; 
and  flowers  of  the  field,  beasts  and  birds,  and  living  things. 
The  Scriptures  have  to  share  a  place  with  the  legends  of 
ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  seen  and  felt  in  a  romantic  mood 
wholly  alien  to  Greece  or  Rome.  The  first  half  of  the 
fourteen-hundreds  prepares  the  way  for  the  Golden  Age  of 
the  Renaissance. 

Petrarch  in  verse  had  brought  humanism  into  the 
thirteen-hundreds.  The  fourteen-hundreds  became  more 
worldly. 

MASACCIO 

1401  -  1428 
Florentine  sculpture  had  its  beginnings  in  Lorenzo 
Ghiberti  (i 378-1465),  who  was  twenty-two  when  1400 
struck.  He  it  was  who  wrought  the  bas-reliefs  which  decorate 
the  famous  bronze  doors  of  the  Baptistry  at  Florence,  upon 
which  he  worked  between  1405  and   1452 — one  of  which 

11 


A   HISTORY 


THE  doors  it  was  that  Michelangelo  said  was  worthy  to  adorn 

PAINTERS      the  gates  of  Paradise.     These  low-reliefs  on  the  gates  of 

OF  the  Baptistry  were  to  have  a  wide  effect  on  the  whole  of 

CENTRAL       Florentine  art.     Some  eight  years  younger  than  Ghiberti, 

came  Donatello  (i 386-1466),  raising  his  great  statues  of 

saints,   creating    his    astounding    portraits    and    low-reliefs, 

and  modelling  his  exquisite  busts  of  childhood  with  a  sense 

of  character,  and  a  pure  reference  to  nature,  that  proved 

his  Gothic   inspiration.     This  '*  naturalism "  breathed  the 

breath  of  life  into  bronze  and  marble   under  his  cunning 

of  hand  ;  and  his  achievement  is  very   Florence  in  spirit 

and    ideals — slender,    lithe,    sinewy,    energetic,    and    quick 

with  expression.     In  him  was  an  aim  the  very  opposite  to 

the   classic   ideal   of  antiquity  ;    and    he    gave   to   modern 

sculpture  its  inspiration. 

Now,  it  so  chanced  that  there  was  born  in  1401,  one 
Tommaso  di  Giovanni  di  Simone  Guidi,  who  was  to  become 
an  astounding  genius  in  painting  by  his  nickname  of 
Masaccio — as  we  should  say,  "  Hulking  Tom  " — though 
his  all  too  short  life  of  twenty-seven  years  (he  died  in  1428), 
and  the  fact  that  he  wrought  his  genius  in  fresco  upon 
the  walls,  make  his  mighty  art  little  known  outside  of 
Florence. 

Masaccio  apprenticed  himself  to  his  art  very  early  as  a 
pupil  to  Masolino.  This  Masolino  (i 384-1435)  had  been 
under  the  Giottesque  Starnina,  but  had  rejected  the 
stiffness  and  stilted  action  of  the  Giottesques  for  a  freer 
naturalness  ;  indeed,  Masolino's  Eve,  in  the  Fall  of  Man  at 
the  Brancacci  Chapel  in  Florence,  is  said  to  be  the  first  nude 
female  figure  painted  from  the  life  in  modern  art.  Masolino, 
however,  was  unable  to  rid  himself  wholly  of  the  medieval 
shyness  to  state  the  full  significance  of  the  human  figure. 
For  Masaccio  was  reserved  that  mighty  first  endeavour. 

78 


OF   PAINTING 


The  naturalism  in  Hulking  Tom,  Masaccio,  aroused  by  WHICH 
Masolino,  was  set  ablaze  by  the  example  in  sculpture  of  TELLS   OF 
Donatello  ;    and,   in   the    famed   Brancacci   Chapel  of  the  THE 
Church  of  the  Carmine  at  Florence,  the  youthful  Masaccio  MIGHT  OF 
wrought  those  world-important   frescoes  that  became  the  j^h^^ 

virile  and  far-reaching  source  of  inspiration  to  the  whole 
of  that  wonderful  Florentine  achievement  in  painting 
during  the  fourteen-hundreds.  Henceforth  the  golden 
dreams  of  the  pietistic  illustrators  gave  way  to  vigour 
of  handling  and  unflinching  communion  with  nature. 
Masaccio  was  to  die  in  his  twenty-seventh  year ;  but  those 
frescoes  of  his  in  the  Church  of  the  Carmine  at  Florence 
became  the  school  for  the  astounding  achievement  of  the 
century.  Masaccio,  by  his  forthright  vision,  by  his  grasp 
of  form,  by  his  mastery  of  the  human  figure,  and  his  sense 
of  depth  and  volume  of  the  pictured  thing,  thrust  forward 
the  artistry  of  painting,  as  revealed  to  Giotto,  in  as  large  a 
stride  as  had  marked  the  advance  of  Giotto  out  of  the 
formality  of  Byzantinism.  In  the  full  dawning,  therefore, 
of  the  Renaissance  of  painting  in  Italy,  stands  out  the  burly 
figure  of  Masaccio.  In  Masaccio  the  sun  of  the  Renaissance 
has  arisen. 

Suddenly  Masaccio  left  Florence  for  Rome,  whilst  at 
work  upon  the  frescoes  of  the  Brancacci  Chapel,  and  he 
went  to  his  death,  for  he  passed  away  at  Rome  in  1428, 
but  in  his  twenty-seventh  year. 

That  so  young  a  man  should,  in  the  short  span  of 
his  years,  have  achieved  a  master-work  of  such  astounding 
power  as  T^e  Expulsion  from  Paradise  at  the  Brancacci 
Chapel  of  the  Church  of  the  Carmine  in  Florence  is  one 
of  the  wonders  of  genius.  The  superb  modelling  of  the 
nude  Adam  and  Eve,  the  sense  of  flesh  and  life,  the  reality 
of  the   movement,    the    dramatic    Tightness    and   force   of 

79 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


PAINTING 

gesture  and  expression,  the  glowing  and  mysterious  effect 
of  atmosphere,  thrust  the  art  of  painting  forward  as  by  a 
miracle.  The  intensity  of  the  sensed  thing,  the  grip  of 
the  emotional  significance  of  art,  are  equalled  by  the 
mature  skill  of  hand  to  utter  these  subtle  significances. 
Here  is  no  formal  illustration  of  an  incident  ;  but  a 
dramatic  transmission  into  our  senses  of  the  tragic  intensity 
of  a  prodigious  art.  Through  the  skilfully  created  figures, 
by  their  action,  movement,  gesture,  and  atmosphere, 
wrought  with  rare  power  and  cunning  of  hand,  is  brought 
into  our  sensing  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  greatness  of 
the  fall  of  man.  Masaccio,  scarce  out  of  his  youth,  reveals 
himself  a  supreme  master,  gifted  with  the  power  to  state 
grandeur  and  dignity  by  his  arrangements,  by  his  superb 
draughtmanship  and  modelling  of  form,  by  his  consummate 
selection  in  gesture,  gifted  with  the  skill  to  do  these  things 
in  paint  as  though  he  were  a  sculptor  of  colour,  and 
impelled  to  his  art  by  a  sublime  sense  of  drama.  In  him 
is  prophecy  of  the  grandeur  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  of  the 
awful  sublimity  of  Michelangelo ;  into  his  hands  has  been 
delivered  the  sceptre  that  is  to  make  Florence,  this  city  of 
the  lily,  the  queen  of  the  Italian  Renaissance.  He  took 
from  Giotto  the  art  that  had  begun  to  decline  through  the 
Giottesques,  and  he  increased  its  tragic  intensity  and  vigour 
and  truthfulness,  and  handed  it  to  Italy — a  sublime  heritage 
that  was  to  bring  to  full  flower  the  sombre  splendour  of 
Tuscan  art.  Before  his  burly  figure  all  insipidity  fled ;  and 
in  the  presence  of  his  majestic  genius,  at  grips  with  the 
realities  and  intensities  of  life,  fragile  pietism  and  the  narrow 
convent  ideals  were  swept  away  as  though  they  departed 
into  nunneries. 


80 


IV 

PAOLO   UCCELLO 

1397  -  M75 

TUSCAN  SCHOOL 

"THE  ROUT  OF  SAN  ROMANCE 

(National  Gallery) 

Niccolo  da  Tolentino,  the  leader  of  the  Florentine  forces,  is  represented 
on  horseback  directing  the  attack  on  the  Sienese.  He  wears  a  rich  damask 
headdress,  his  helmet  being  carried  by  his  armour-bearer.  These  are  the 
only  two  persons  whose  heads  are  bare. 

The  second  and  third  of  this  series  of  battle  pictures  are  in  the  Uffizi 
Gallery  at  Florence  and  in  the  Louvre. 

Painted  in  tempera  on  wood.     6  ft.  h.  x  10  ft.  5  in.  w.  (1-829  x  3-i74)- 


1  It  has  long  ago  been  shown  by  Mr.  H.  P.  Home  thai  this  picture  doei  no 
represent  the  Battle  of  Sant'  Egidio. 


CHAPTER    IX 
WHICH  IS  CHIEFLY  CONCERNED  WITH  PERSPECTIVE 

DOMENICO  VENEZIANO 

1400?  -  1 46 1 

Masaccio,  short  as  was  his   life,  revealed  his  art  to  two  WHICH   IS 
painters — whose   names   are  linked   together   in   a  murder  CHIEFLY 
invented  by  the  tongue  of  Vasari — Domenico   Veneziano  CON- 

and  Andrea  dal  Castagno.  ^^,5,^^?^^ 

r^  •       J-  r>     .  1  k  ..      1  T-^  WITH   PER- 

Domenico  di  Bartolommeo,  better  known  as  Domenico 

Veneziano,  the  Venetian,  born  about  1400  and  dying  in 
1 46 1,  had  learnt  his  craft  in  Venice,  where  he  had  received 
the  secret  of  painting  in  oils.  Thence  he  went  southwards 
over  the  mountains  into  Tuscany,  and  was  working  at 
Perugia  in  1438,  on  the  edge  of  forty,  when  Cosimo  de' 
Medici  called  him  to  Florence.  Here  he  at  once  came 
under  the  thrall  of  Masaccio's  Brancacci  frescoes,  which 
were  a  revelation  to  him,  and  caused  a  marked  development 
in  his  artistry.  Of  his  few  known  works,  the  most  famous 
are  the  fresco  of  "John  the  Baptist  and  St.  Francis  in  S.  Croce 
at  Florence,  a  Madonna  and  Saints  in  the  Uffizi,  and  the 
signed  fresco  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  Enthroned,  painted 
in  a  niche  at  the  Canto  de'  Carnesecchi  in  Florence,  but 
which  has  been  removed  on  to  canvas,  and  belongs  to  the 
National  Gallery  in  London. 

UCCELLO 

1397  -  1475 
Domenico  Veneziano  in  turn  strongly  influenced  Paolo 

di    Dono,   better   known    as    Uccello,    his    contemporary. 

VOL.  I — L  81 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


A   HISTORY 

Paolo  Uccello — nicknamed  "  Paul  of  the  Birds,"  from  his 
fondness  for  them — is  famous  as  being  the  first  Florentine 
painter  who  set  himself  to  the  conquest  of  foreshortening 
and  perspective.      Indeed,  his  art  teems  with  the  sense  of 
his  challenge  to  the  difficulties  of  this  scientific  side  of  the 
craftsmanship  of  art.     His  battle-pieces,  of  which  the  Rout 
of  San  Romano  in  tempera  on  wood  at  the  National  Gallery 
in  London,  is  so  fine  an  example  both  in  its  Venetian  sense 
of  colour,  in  its  movement,  and  its  scientific  exultation  in 
linear   perspective   and   foreshortening,   gave   him  also  the 
scope   for   his   delight   in    animal   forms,   even   though  his 
science  be  too  insistent.     The  second  of  this  series  of  battle- 
pictures  of  S.  Romano  by  Uccello  is  at  the  Uffizi  in  Florence, 
and  the  third  is  at  the  Louvre.     Uccello's  admiration  for 
the  art  of  Giotto — in  his  grave  sixty  years  before  Uccello 
was    born — is    marked    throughout    his    work  ;     but    he 
advanced  his  style  under  the  influence  of  his  contemporary, 
Domenico    Veneziano  ;    and    his    personal    friendship    for 
Donatello  and  the  architect  Brunelleschi  was  not  without 
results  on  his  keen  and  scientific  brain.     His  sense  of  colour 
proved  him  wise  in  choosing  painting  as  his  chief  activity 
in   the   arts.     But,   whilst    Donatello  influenced  Masaccio, 
and  Masaccio  and  Donatello  afl^ected  the  art  of  Domenico 
Veneziano,  Uccello  does   not  seem   to  have   been  directly 
greatly  influenced  by  Masaccio  himself. 

ANDREA   DAL   CASTAGNO 

1390?  -  1457 

But  both  the  virile  art  of  Masaccio  and  the  art  of 
Uccello,  combined  with  the  sculpture  of  Donatello,  had 
an  enormous  eff^ect  upon  the  art  of  Andrea  dal  Castagno, 
who  was  born  about  1390  and  died  in  1457.  -^^  passed 
his  youth  near  the  hamlet  of  Castagno,  watching  his  uncle's 
82 


OF   PAINTING 


cattle.     The  artistic  instinct  in  him  was  set  aflame  by  seeing  WHICH   IS 
a  painter  at  work  on  a  tabernacle ;   thereafter  he  began  to  CHIEFLY 
scratch  figures  of  animals  on  walls  with  his  knife's  point,  ^ON- 
and  to  draw  with  pieces  of  charcoal,  in  such  remarkable  ^^^NED 
fashion    that    it    became    the    gossip    and    wonder    of  the  Jl ^^ 

neighbours.  The  gossip  came  to  the  ears  of  one  of  the 
Medici,  who  sent  the  youth  to  be  trained  in  Florence.  Thus 
Vasari  retails  the  story  ;  but  the  more  ugly  tale  of  Vasari, 
that  Andrea's  fierce  jealousy  of  his  rival,  the  Venetian 
Domenico,  ended  in  his  slaying  Domenico  Veneziano  with 
a  knife,  has  been  proved  a  slander — not  the  lightest  part  of 
the  proof  being  that  the  victim  outlived  his  murder  some 
four  years — yet  the  slander  hints,  at  any  rate,  of  his  violent 
temper  and  uncouth  character.  He  was  born  into  an  age 
well-fitted  to  his  rugged  habits.  And  his  grim  vision,  his 
rugged  and  harsh  style,  prove  the  quality  of  the  man,  who 
found  his  glory  in  painting  rude  and  uncouth  types,  and 
whose  unflinching  interest  in  character  and  forthright  com- 
munion with  reality  sent  him  to  his  art  as  much  concerned 
with  ugliness  as  with  beauty,  so  long  as  the  thing  seen 
appealed  to  his  feelings.  For  Castagno,  neither  Masaccio 
nor  Donatello  had  lived  in  vain.  Mere  beauty,  as  beauty, 
had  no  concern  for  him.  His  art  is  given  to  rugged 
strength  in  terms  of  grandeur  almost  as  of  sculpture.  And 
his  vigorous  art  never  found  more  congenial  subject  than 
in  that  lusty,  swaggering  portrait  of  Pippo  Spano,  at 
S.  Apollonia  in  Florence,  in  which  we  see  the  mailed 
soldier-adventurer  of  his  days,  straddling  with  defiant  and 
careless  bearing,  his  broad  sword-blade  gripped  across  the 
thighs  in  his  two  strong  hands.  It  is  one  of  the  first  of 
the  great  portraits  of  the  Renaissance.  From  this  master- 
piece breathes  the  reckless  spirit,  the  careless  laugh,  the 
swashbuckling    habit   that   filled    all    Italy   with    soldier- 

83 


A   HISTORY 


ITALY 


THE  adventurers,  who   came  at  last  to   her   many  thrones  and 

PAINTERS      seats  of  power,  and  held  the  people  in  the  hollow  of  their 
OF  hands.      As    famed    are    Castagno's    Last    Supper    in    the 

^-^n™^  Church   where  the  truculent  Pippo  Spano  stands  astride; 

and  in  the  cathedral  of  the  city  is  Castagno's  equestrian 
portrait  of  Niccolo  da  TokntinOy  all  fine  examples  of  his 
vigorous  art.  And  it  is  easily  understood  why,  when  it 
was  decided  to  have  the  picture  painted  of  the  gibbeted 
bodies  of  the  partakers  in  the  Albizzi  conspiracy  of  14-35, 
Castagno  was  hailed  to  the  painting  of  it. 

FRANCESCHI 

1415     -     1492 

Working  as  pupil  to  Domenico  Veneziano,  and  being 
admitted  thereby  into  the  secrets  and  mysteries  of  painting  in 
oils,  was  PiERo  DELLA  pRANCESCA,  or,  as  he  should  be  called, 
PiERo  DEI  Franceschi  (141 5  ?-i 492) .  From  Domenico 
Veneziano  also  he  got  his  grip  of  character,  but  it  was  from 
Uccello  that  he  caught  his  keen  delight  in  perspective. 

It  is  wont  to  class  Franceschi  as  an  early  master  of  the 
school  of  Umbria — he  was  born  in  the  little  mountain 
town  of  Borgo  San  Sepolcro,  and  thither  he  returned  at  the 
end  of  his  days  to  die.  Whatsoever  by  birth,  Tuscan  he  was 
by  artistry,  and  a  very  Florentine  of  Tuscans.  Though  little 
of  his  work  is  known  to-day,  he  wrought  much,  ranging 
over  Italy  to  do  the  will  of  his  patrons.  The  frescoes  that 
he  painted  of  the  Legends  of  the  Cross  stand  to-day  where  he 
wrought  them  in  the  Church  of  San  Francesco  at  Arezzo. 
The  scientific  bent  of  his  mind — even  as  a  boy  he  was  a 
mathematician — shows  itself  in  close  observation,  a  grip  of 
anatomy,  and  a  skill  in  perspective ;  indeed,  his  Treatise  on 
Perspective,  dedicated  to  the  Duke  Guidobaldo  of  Urbino, 
was  a  guide  to  the  painters  of  his  age.     But  he  was  rather 

84 


PIERO   DEI   FRANCESCHI 
141 5?  -  1492 

UMBRIAN  SCHOOL 

"THE  NATIVITY" 

(National  Gallery) 

The  Infant  Christ  lies  on  the  ground  on  the  comer  of  the  Virgin's 
mantle  ;  she  kneels  beside  him  in  adoration.  To  the  right  St.  Joseph  is 
seen  sitting  on  the  pack  saddle  of  the  ass  ;  near  him  are  two  shepherds. 
In  the  distance  a  view  of  a  hilly  landscape  and  the  towers  of  the  city  of 
Arezzo. 

Painted  on  wood.     +  ft.  4^  in.  h.  x  4  ft.  w.  (1-333  ^  i'2is)- 


OF   PAINTING 


a  forerunner  to  the  greater  genius  of  Florence  that  came  WHICH   IS 
after  him,  than  a  great  achiever  himself;  though  it  must  be  CHIEFLY 
remembered  that  Franceschi  was  the  first  painter  to  display  CON- 
a  calculated  skill  in  the  painting  of  objects  seen  in  the  value  ^^'^J^-^^ 
created   by   their  distance  in   atmosphere — what   is  called 
tone-values — that  is  to  say,  the  subtle  effect  produced  by 
perspective  of  colour  in  relation  to  its  distance  from  the 
eye. 

Piero  dei  Franceschi  died  blind  on  the  1 2th  of  October 
1492,  and  was  buried  in  the  cathedral  of  his  native  town. 


85 


CHAPTER    X 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


WHEREIN  WE  ARE  INTRODUCED  TO  A  FRIAR 
WITH  A  ROVING  EYE 

It  is  now  necessary  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  there 
were  two  currents  of  Florentine  art  flowing  side  by  side. 
We  have  seen  the  sombre  realistic  art,  so  typical  of  her 
genius,  arising  in  the  practice  of  Giotto,  create  the  genius  of 
Masaccio,  and  flow  in  the  blood  of  Castagno  and  Franceschi. 
Alongside  of  this  was  the  art  of  Fra  Angelico,  with  hint  of 
Siena  in  his  blood.     And  now  came 

FRA   FILIPPO   LIPPI 

1406  -  1469 

The  great  Florentine  art  of  Giotto  had  threatened  to 
lapse  into  insipidity  in  the  hands  of  the  Giottesques ;  and 
Fra  Angelico  had  arisen  as  the  genius  to  complete  its  passing 
into  an  exquisite  golden  dreaminess,  when  Masaccio  came, 
urged  to  it  by  the  great  art  of  the  sculptor  Donatello,  and 
brought  back  the  stern  tragic  intensity  of  Florentine  art  into 
its  native  vigour  again.  Uccello  and  Andrea  dal  Castagno 
completed  the  conquest,  and  disgusted  the  Florentines  with 
the  insipid.  But  the  pietistic  revelation  of  Fra  Angelico 
did  not  go  under.  He  himself,  at  the  end  of  his  days,  had 
put  forth  a  more  vigorous  artistic  utterance ;  and  out  of  his 
art  was  to  be  born  a  style  that  ran  beside  the  more  vigorous 
work  of  Masaccio  and  his  successors. 

It  was  a  strange  and  perplexing  age  that  brought  forth 
the  stern  and  virile  art  of  Masaccio  and  Andrea  dal  Castagno, 
86 


PAINTING 


fiercely  concerned  with  character  and  strength  and  tragic  WHEREIN 
intensity,  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  the  winsome  WE   ARE 
and  exquisite  search  for  beauty  of  Fra  FiHppo   Lippi,  the  INTRO- 
worldly  CarmeUte.      But   there   they   grew,   side   by   side.  ^^^^^  ^^ 
Fra  Filippo  Lippi,  the  son  of  a  butcher,  has  left  us  no  tally  ,,^t^tt    a 

c  1  '  A  '     '  '  T     r  1  .         WITH    A 

01  his  early  training  as  artist.  Lett  an  orphan  at  a  tender  oQviNr 
age,  it  came  about  that  at  eight  he  was  in  the  care  of  the  gyE 
Carmelite  monastery,  hard  by  his  old  home,  and  thereby 
became  steeped  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  best  Florentine 
painting.  The  Giottesque  painter  and  miniaturist  Lorenzo 
Monaco,  Fra  Angelico,  and  Masaccio  were  famous,  and  the 
lad's  eyes  at  least  dwelt  upon  their  achievement.  Growing 
up  to  youth  in  the  precincts  of  the  Carmine  Church,  he 
must  often  have  loitered  to  watch  Masaccio  painting  upon 
his  frescoes  in  the  Brancacci  Chapel.  Masaccio  ended 
his  short  twenty-seven  years  of  life  in  1428,  when  Fra 
Filippo  Lippi  was  twenty-two  years  of  age  ;  and  three 
years  thereafter  (143 1)  the  friar  left  the  convent,  for  which 
he  had  shown  but  sorry  vocation  ;  and  though  he  kept  the 
friendship  of  the  friars,  and  signed  his  pictures  with  his 
monastic  name,  he  entered  upon  that  stormy  and  romantic 
life,  filled  with  worldly  adventure  and  wild  living,  which 
was  to  make  of  him  so  strange  a  son  of  Holy  Church. 
The  Church  secured  him  appointments  and  good  pay  for 
the  work  of  his  hands  ;  but  though  his  art  was  soon  in 
wide  demand,  he  launched  himself  upon  a  sea  of  money- 
troubles,  was  ever  in  want,  entangled  in  violent  quarrels 
with  his  patrons,  careless  and  neglectful  of  his  work,  and 
hunted  by  creditors.  Nor  did  he  keep  very  strictly  his 
vows  of  chastity — the  flip  of  a  petticoat  ever  caught  his 
eye. 

Filippo  Lippi  was  turned  fifty  when  he  came  to  the 
Convent  Church  of  San   Margherita  in   Prato  to   paint  a 

87 


THE 

PAINTERS 

OF 

CENTRAL 

ITALY 


A    HISTORY 

Madonna  for  the  Abbess.  He  had  asked  the  Abbess  to  let 
one  of  the  nuns,  the  beautiful,  seventeen-year-old  novice 
Lucrezia  Buti,  sit  to  him  as  the  model.  But  the  friar's 
blood  burnt  hot.  He  fell  violently  enamoured  of  the 
beautiful  girl  ;  and  love  grew  up  between  them.  The 
passionate  friar  took  advantage  of  the  solemn  public  festival 
of  the  display  of  the  Holy  Girdle  to  steal  away  with  her  to 
his  house.  Lucrezia  Buti  became  in  1457  ^^  mother  of 
Filippo  Lippi's  son,  who  was  in  after  years  to  rise  to  fame 
as  Filippino  Lippi.  It  was  several  years  before  the  Pope, 
Pius  II.,  absolved  the  friar  and  his  nun  from  their  vows  to 
the  Church,  at  the  suit  of  Cosimo  de'  Medici,  and  made 
Lucrezia  the  lawful  wife  of  the  painter.  Fra  Filippo  Lippi 
did  not  long  live  to  play  the  wedded  husband,  dying  at 
Spoleto  on  the  4th  of  October  1469,  after  a  sharp  and 
sudden  illness,  and  leaving  unfinished  in  the  Cathedral 
Choir  of  Spoleto  the  frescoes  of  the  Life  of  the  Virgin  that 
he  had  there  gone  to  paint. 

The  lunette  of  T'he  Assumption^  painted  by  Filippo 
Lippi  in  tempera  on  a  panel  for  Cosimo  de'  Medici,  whose 
crest,  three  feathers  held  by  a  ring,  is  seen  upon  the  design 
— a  picture  now  at  the  National  Gallery  in  London — is  an 
exquisite  example,  and  typical,  of  the  friar's  beauty  of 
colouring  and  tenderness,  and  displays  his  gift  of  expressing 
the  winsome  sweetness  for  which  his  Madonnas  are  famous 
— the  whole  set  in  a  glowing  colour-harmony,  and  treated 
with  wondrous  finesse.  This  design  of  the  Archangel 
Gabriel  announcing  to  the  Virgin  Mary  that  she  has  been 
chosen  to  be  the  Mother  of  the  Christ,  became  a  favourite 
subject  of  the  painters  of  the  Renaissance.  Fra  Filippo 
Lippi,  or  Lippo  Lippi  as  he  is  called  for  short,  revealed 
such  a  beautiful  sense  of  colour,  that  one  regrets  his  early 
training  for  the  Church.  He  was  at  heart  a  romantic  poet. 
88 


VI 

FRA   FILIPPO    LIPPI 
1406?  -  1469 

TUSCAN  SCHOOL 
"THE  ANNUNCIATION" 

(National  Gallery) 

The  Archangel  Gabriel  is  seen  in  the  act  of  announcing  to  the  Virgin 
that  she  shall  be  the  Mother  of  the  Christ. 

A  lunette-shaped  picture  painted  for  Cosimo  de'  Medici  and  marked 
with  his  crest,  three  feathers  tied  together  in  a  ring. 

Painted  in  tempera  on  wood.     2  ft.  2  in.  h,  x  4  ft.  ii|  in.  w.  (o-66i  x 
1-51). 


OF   PAINTING 

His  decorations  in  the  choir  of  the  cathedral  (Duomo)  at  WHEREIN 
Prato,  wherein  he  painted  the  Legends  of  John  the  Baptist  and  WE   ARE 
Saint   Stephen^  reveal   his   grasp   of  portraiture,  his   gift   of  INTRO- 
character,  and  harmonious  skill  in  grouping.     In  the  dance  -^^CED   TO 
of  Salome  before  Herod,  all  his  poetic  sense  is  displayed.  TTTTrprr    ^ 
Here  are  the  movement  of  the  dance,  dramatic  force,  and  Royrvrp 
beauty  of  form.     Here  Lippo  Lippi  discovered  the  oneness  eyE 
of  the  arts  of  colour  and  music. 

Filippo  Lippi's  place  in  the  development  of  the  art  of 
painting  is  difficult  to  set  down  clearly  unless  as  a  parallel 
growth  of  Fra  Angelico*s  artistry  and  significance — what 
may  be  called  the  Francis  of  Assisi  mood — side  by  side  with 
the  tragic  intensity  of  the  growth  of  Masaccio's  art.  He  owed 
his  chief  inspiration  to  Fra  Angelico  and  the  cloister  that  bred 
the  soul  of  Fra  Angelico ;  but  his  art,  whilst  it  displays  a 
fuller  development  of  the  craft  of  painting,  lacks,  as  his  life 
lacked,  the  tenderness  and  rarity  of  spiritual  feeling  of  the 
saintly  Dominican.  Of  Masaccio's  strength  he  shows  small 
sign,  yet  he  did  not  gaze  at  Masaccio  working  upon  the 
Brancacci  frescoes  in  vain.  But  he  had  a  vision  that  both 
his  forerunners  lacked.  Apart  from  the  charm  of  his  work, 
apart  from  the  sensuous  revelling  in  beauty  of  form,  he 
came  to  the  utterance  of  glowing  and  rich  colour,  and  his 
painted  surfaces  knew  the  light  of  the  sun  ;  his  generous 
temperament  revelled  in  the  forms  of  flowers,  and  his  eyes 
delighted  in  the  mother's  love  and  tender  care  of  babes ;  to 
him  the  fresh  babies'  faces  and  the  delicate  fragile  beauty 
of  the  Madonna  were  an  eternal  inspiration.  His  in- 
fluence on  the  Church  painters  was  very  great ;  and 
he  stands  out  as  increaser  of  the  development  of  Fra 
Angelico's  spirit  in  Florentine  painting,  as  Masaccio  does 
towards  the  more  vigorous  and  tragic  Florentine  art  of 
Giotto. 

VOL.  I — M  89 


A   HISTORY 


CENTRAL 
ITALY 


THE  BENOZZO  GOZZOLI 

PAINTERS  1420  -  1497 

5^,,^^  ,  r  We  have  already  seen  that  Era  Angelico's  most  famous 

pupil,  Benozzo  Gozzoli,  carried  on  his  master's  tradition. 
Like  Eilippo  Lippi,  he  could  not  wholly  escape  the  knowledge 
of  the  increase  of  the  painter's  gamut  through  the  revela- 
tions of  Masaccio.  But,  like  Eilippo  Lippi,  or  perhaps  even 
more  so,  he  was  astoundingly  little  moved  by  it,  and  wrought 
almost  wholly  in  the  atmosphere  of  his  master  Era  Angelico, 
whom  he  aided  in  the  making  of  the  frescoes  at  Orvieto. 
But  Benozzo  Gozzoli  shook  himself  free  at  last  from  the 
monastic  influence  of  the  saintly  Dominican  (for,  be  it 
remembered,  he  lived  into  the  second  half,  indeed  almost 
through  the  second  half,  of  the  fourteen-hundreds,  which 
saw  a  very  marked  increase  of  artistic  genius),  and  the 
art  of  his  later  life  concerned  itself  with  what  was  his 
chief  achievement  and  inclination — the  painting  of  the  life 
of  his  day,  which  is  clumsily  known  as  genre.  It  is  true  that 
Benozzo  Gozzoli  continued  to  paint  stories  from  Scripture 
as  the  subjects  of  his  frescoes ;  but  these  stories  were  the 
excuse  for  the  recording  of  the  habits  and  life  of  his  day, 
and  of  the  costumes  and  personalities  of  that  day.  Whether 
he  paint  the  walls  of  the  Campo  Santo  at  Pisa  with  the  Build- 
ing of  the  Tower  of  Babel ^  or  the  more  famous  frescoes  in  the 
chapel  of  the  Riccardi  Palace  in  Florence  with  the  Procession 
of  the  Magi  and  Angels^  wherein  the  Medici  family  are  shown 
at  the  head  of  the  richly  arrayed  cavalcade,  Benozzo 
Gozzoli  stands  revealed  as  a  charming  chronicler,  stating 
with  naive  grace  and  beauty  the  habits  of  his  age.  A  pro- 
digious and  facile  worker,  Benozzo  Gozzoli  uttered  the 
love  of  nature,  a  bhthe  delight  in  the  idyllic  life  of  the 
day — the  vintage,  the  marriage-dance,  the  squabbles  of 
90 


OF   PAINTING 


small    boys,    the   jocularity   of   ser^-'ants,    children   cam'ing  WHEREIN 

their  books  to  school — it  all  holds   the  romantic  music  of  ^'^   ARE 

jocund   life.      He   enjoyed    the   intimate   friendship   of  the  l^^TRO- 

princelv   house   of  the    Medici;    and   one   of  his    greatest  ^'^^^^   ^^ 

•  \    FRI  A.R 

achievements    is    the    equestrian    portrait    of    Lorenzo    de'  *    ,_     * 

Medici,  Lorenzo  the  M^.gnincent,  as  one  of  the   Ma^i   in  -Dovyvr 

the  fresco  of  the  Riccardi  Palace  at  Fbrence — indeed,  the  £ye 

whole   of  this   fresco   is   redolent   of  the   life   of  Florence 

in   the   fourteen-hundreds.      And   if  he    lack   his   master's 

simple  faith  and  religious  emotion,  he  but  accentuates  the 

fact  of  the  increasing  public  interest  in  v:::lzW  splendour  and 

fading  religious  fer\-our,  just  as  Filippo   Lippi's  art  shows 

a    more   sensuous   and   worldly  rehgious   spirit   in    marked 

contrast  with  the  earlier,  simpler,  and  more  childlike  faith 

of  Era  Angelico. 

Benozzo  Gozzoli  (and  probablv  Era  Lippo  Lippi)  trained 
a  pupil  of  whose  life  and  work  but  little  is  known,  Zenobio 
Machiavelli  .1413-14-9^  and  there  wrought  also  in 
Florence  a  rollower  ot  Filiopo  Liooi.  and  pu^il  to  Giuliano 
Pesello,  Francesco  Pesellino  (1422-1^;-.  who  is  re- 
markable for  his  decorative  gifts  in  colour,  and  famed  for 
his  paintings  of  cassone  panels. 

Of  Eiliopo  Lippi's  pupils  and  followers  also  were  Fra 
Diamante  and  Jacopo  del  Sell^jo. 


91 


vir 

ANTONIO    POLLAIUOLO 
1429  -  1498 

AND 

PIERO       POLLAIUOLO 
1443  -  1496 

FLORENTINE  SCHOOL 
«THE  MARTYRDOM  OF  ST  SEBASTIAN" 

(National  Gallery) 
St.  Sebastian  bound  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  his  body  pierced  with  arrows. 
Painted  in  oil  on  wood.     9  ft.  6  in.  h.  x  6  ft.  7^  in.  w.  (2"895  x  2*019). 


THE    GOLDSMITH -PAINTERS    OF 
FLORE.XCE 


VIII 

VERROCHIO 

1435     -     1488 

"VIRGIN  AND  CHILD" 

When  it  is  remembered  that  Verrochio  was  the  master  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  amongst  other  great  pupils,  it  will  be  realised  how  prodigious  an 
influence  he  had  upon  the  men  who  came  after  him. 


IX 

BOTTICELLI 

1444     -     1510 

FLORENTINE  SCHOOL 

"GIOVANNA  DEGLI  ALBIZZI  AND  THE  THREE 

GRACES" 

(Giovanna  Albizzi  et  les  Trois  Graces  ou  les  Vertus) 

(Louvre) 

To  the  right  Giovanna,  a  young  woman  in  a  red-brown  dress,  wearing 
a  white  veil  on  her  golden  hair  and  a  necklace  of  pearls  round  her  neck, 
advances  towards  four  maidens  clad  in  delicately-tinted  robes.  She  holds 
in  her  outstretched  hands  a  white  linen  cloth  into  which  the  four  maidens 
throw  flowers  symbolic  of  the  Virtues. 

Fresco  painting  detached  from  the  wall.  7  ft.  3  in.  x  9  ft.  4  in. 
(2-12  X  2-84). 


-J.    »     SL_      -^    -4 


4       5       o 


CHAPTER    XI 

WHICH  SHOWS   THE   KINSHIP   OF  PAINTING  AND 

SCULPTURE 

There  arose  in  Florence,  about  the  middle  fourteen-  WHICH 
hundreds,  a  group  of  painters  who  had  served  their  earlv  SHOWS 
apprenticeship  in  the  goldsmiths'  shops.  THE  KIN- 

SHIP OF 
ANTONIO  POLLAIUOLO     and     PIERO  POLLAIUOLO    p^ixjixq 

1429  -  1498  1443  -  1496      .:^>;j) 

The  two  brothers  Pollaiuolo  were  born  in  Florence ;  SCULP- 
the  elder,  Antonio  Pollaiuolo,  being  apprenticed  bv  his  tURE 
father  to  a  goldsmith,  one  Bartoluccio,  who  was  stepfather 
to  the  famous  sculptor  Lorenzo  Ghiberti,  him  who  wrought 
the  gates  to  the  Baptistery  of  Florence  which  were  to  win 
Michelangelo's  praise  in  the  years  to  come,  as  being  "worthy 
to  set  at  the  entrance  to  Paradise";  and  it  was  to  assist  in 
the  modelling  of  some  of  the  ornaments  ot  these  gates  that 
young  Antonio  Pollaiuolo  was  employed.  Antonio  Pollaiuolo 
was  soon  a  goldsmith  working  on  his  own  account,  and 
was  to  become  a  famous  sculptor  in  bronze.  To  that  fame 
Cellini  paid  his  weighty  tribute  that  Pollaiuolo's  designs 
were  of  such  excellence  and  beauty  that  all  the  goldsmiths 
and  many  sculptors  and  painters  made  use  of  them. 
Antonio,   strongly   intluenced   as    a   sculptor    by   Donatello 

95 


A    HISTORY 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


THE  GOLD-  and  as  a  painter  by  Uccello,  is  said  to  have  been  the  first 
artist  to  dissect  the  dead  in  order  to  study  anatomy.  It 
was  in  the  latter  end  of  his  life  that  he  took  to  painting ; 
and  was  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  Florentine  artists  to 
employ  oils.  Older  than  his  brother  by  fourteen  years,  he 
survived  him  a  couple  of  years. 

PiERo  PoLLAiuoLO  ( 1 443- 1 496)  was  3.  painter  from  the 
beginning  of  his  career.  Indeed,  he  is  reputed  to  have 
worked  as  quite  a  child  in  the  studios  of  Baldovinetti  and 
Andrea  dal  Castagno  ;  but  he  must  have  been  little  more 
than  a  mere  child  under  Castagno,  since  that  rugged  and 
forceful  man  died  when  the  boy  was  thirteen. 

The  Martyrdom  of  St.  Sebastian  at  the  National  Gallery 
in  London  is  vastly  interesting  not  only  on  its  own  account, 
as  showing  the  Masaccio  tradition  of  forceful  realism  in 
which  the  Pollaiuoli  were  bred,  but  as  having  been  painted 
by  both  brothers.  The  elder  Antonio's  sculpturesque 
quality  is  seen  in  the  vigorous  and  severe  drawing  of  the 
sculptor,  reared  in  Donatello's  atmosphere,  and  his  know- 
ledge of  anatomy  is  fully  revealed  in  his  grip  of  the  human 
form  and  his  skill  in  stating  the  human  movement,  just  as 
the  younger  Piero's  colour-faculty  reveals  the  painter. 

VERROCCHIO 

1435  -  1488 
The  most  famous  pupil  of  the  two  Pollaiuoli  was 
Andrea  del  Verrocchio.  But  it  was  to  his  pupilage  under 
Donatello  that  Verrocchio  was  most  deeply  indebted  for  his 
mastery.  Most  famous  as  a  sculptor — he  is  immortal  as 
the  creator  of  one  of  the  great  equestrian  statues  of  the 
Renaissance,  the  world-known  figure  of  the  great  condottiere 
CoUeone  at  Venice  (1479) — he  also  came  to  high  repute 
as  a   painter ;    and  as  such  had  a  far-reaching  and  strong 

96 


X 

BOTTICELLI 

1444     -     1510 

"  SPRING  " 

(In  the  Florence  Academy) 

The  date  of  this  painting  is  much  debated.  It  may  probably  be  about 
1478,  before  the  Roman  visit.  Reading  from  the  left  the  figures  are 
Mercury,  the  Three  Graces,  Venus,  Primavera  the  Spring-maiden,  Flora, 
and  Zephyrus. 

Painted  in  tempera  on  wood. 


OF   PAINTING 

influence   upon   the   great   art   of  Florence.     And   no   less  WHICH 
famous   than   as   sculptor   and   painter   was    he   as    master.  SHOWS 
Leonardo  da   Vinci,  Lorenzo   di   Credi,  and   many  others  THE   KIN- 
who  came  to  high  fame  were  his  pupils.  SHIP   Oh 

Verrocchio  reveals  an  exquisite  sense  of  the  values  of 
light  and  shade,  which  added  prodigiously  to  the  develop- 
ment  of  the  Florentine  achievement  in  the  mastery  of  the  XURE 
depth  in  painting — or  the  mirrored  design. 

Of  the  rare  paintings  from  his  hand  that  have  come 
down  to  us,  is  the  celebrated  Baptism  of  Christ  at  the 
Academy  of  Florence,  in  which  the  angel  was  painted  by 
Verrocchio's  greatest  pupil,  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

Verrocchio  has  been  held  to  be  the  first  of  the  Florentines 
who  understood  landscape ;  of  a  truth  he  realised  the  part 
played  in  landscape  by  light  and  air,  and  their  influence  on 
forms.  But  the  Italian  genius  for  landscape  must  ever 
be  spoken  of  with  reservations.  Twenty  years  before 
Verrocchio  was  born,  as  we  shall  see,  the  Van  Eycks  had 
painted  landscape  in  exquisite  fashion  in  Flanders  ;  and 
had  created  a  spirit  in  art  which  was  to  achieve,  in  the 
lowlands  to  the  south  of  France,  landscape  of  a  power 
undreamed  of  by  the  whole  Italian  genius. 

It  has  been  neatly  said  of  late  that  "  Italian  art  was  the 
favoured  child,  but  not  the  eldest  child,  of  the  Renaissance  " ; 
and  it  is  well  to  remember  this  always  in  surveying  the 
achievement  of  Italy  and  of  the  Renaissance. 

With  what  exquisite  sense  Verrocchio  painted  landscape 
you  shall  see  in  his  Annunciation  in  the  Uffizi,  where  he 
essayed  the  difficult  problem  of  twilight  with  a  poetic 
intensity  that  was  rarely  excelled  in  the  whole  Italian 
achievement. 


VOL.  I — N  97 


CHAPTER    XII 


WHEREIN  WE  ARE  INTRODUCED  TO  THE  POET  OF 
THE  SPRINGTIME  OF  THE  RENAISSANCE 

THE  GOLD-  The  Turk   took   Constantinople    in    1453,    ^^^   ^^"^    ^^^ 

SMITH-  scholars  fleeing  out    of  the    land.     To   Florence    came    a 

PAINTERS      brilliant   group,   bearing   with  them  the   Platonic  love  of 

OF  Love  and   Beauty   that  created  the  Neo-Platonism.     The 

FLORENCE    ^^^^  ^j^^^  Constantinople  fell,  there  was  a  tanner's  son,  a 

boy  of  nine,  in  Florence,  who  was  to  become  the  head  and 

front  of  her  Neo-Platonism,  and  create  it  into  terms  of  line 

and  colour,  his  nickname  Botticelli. 

BOTTICELLI:  "The  Reanimate  Greek" 
1444  -  ^  1 5 10 

Nine  years  younger  than  Verrocchio  was  a  young  gold- 
smith, Botticelli,  destined  to  a  great  career,  destined  also 
to  come  into  his  own  again  through  a  renewed  vogue  by 
the  strange  means  of  an  afl^ected  "  aesthetic  "  cult  that  passed 
over  England  like  a  plague  of  culture  in  the  late  eighteen- 
hundreds. 

Alessandro  di  Mariano  di  Vanni  dei  Filipepi,  bettei 
known  and  world-famous  as  Sandro  Botticelli  (1444- 
15 10),  is  so  individual,  so  original  in  his  art,  master  of  so 
fascinating  and  personal  a  style,  that  he  stands  out  as 
creating  almost  a  new  development  of  painting — and,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  and  his  contemporaries  do  reveal  an 
atmosphere  in  their  art  which  was  attune  to  new  and 
marked  developments  throughout  Italian  life  in  the  last  half 
of  the  fourteen-hundreds. 

98 


XI 

SANDRO  BOTTICELLI 

1444  -  1510 

FLORENTINE  SCHOOL 

"MARS  AND  VENUS" 

(National  Gallery) 

The  goddess,  clothed  in  -.vhite  and  gold,  is  awake  ;  Mars  lies  asleep. 
Four  infant  i-atyrs  are  playing  about  him  ;  one  of  them  tries  to  rouse  him 
by  blowing  on  a  shell. 

Painted  in  tempera  on  wood.  2  ft.  3^  in.  h.  x  5  ft.  8  in.  w. 
(0-698  X  1727). 


PAINTING 


We  have  seen  that  Florentine  art  from  the  beginning  of  WHEREIN 
the  century  had  received  two  nev^  impulses  that  had  rapidly  WE   ARE 
urged  it  forward  to  fresh  achievement.     On  the  one  hand,  INTRO- 
Masaccio,  powerfully  impressed  by  the  sculptor  Donatello,  ^UCED   TO 
had  raised  a  school  of  intensely  realistic  painting,  rugged  i  ruti^i 

and  forthright,  that  had  brought  forth  Domenico  Veneziano,  cpoTXTp 
Andrea  dal  Castagno,  Uccello,  Dei  Franceschi ;  on  the  other  xiME   OF 
hand,  the  Giottesques  had  bred  the  tender  and  beauty-seeking  THE   RE- 
aims   of  Fra  Angelico,   Fra   Filippo   Lippi,   and   Benozzo  NAISSANCE 
Gozzoli.     The  latter  half  of  the  century  saw  the  rise  of  the 
goldsmith-painters,  of  whom  the  brothers  Pollaiuoli  were 
steeped  in  the  severer  and  dramatic  tradition  of  the  realists 
born   out   of  the    art    of  Donatello    and    Masaccio.     The 
beauty-seeking    and   religiously   tender   side   of   Florentine 
art  was  also  to  create  a  school  akin  to  it  in  these  latter 
fourteen-hundreds,  and  out  of  the  soul  of  Fra  Filippo  Lippi 
was  to  be  born  Botticelli.     But  with  a  difference.     As  the 
spiritual  and  monastic  soul  of  Fra  Angelico  was  usurped  by 
the  sensuous  and  more  mundane  religiosity  of  Fra  Filippo 
Lippi,  so  in  turn  was  the  Greek  soul  of  Botticelli  to  usurp 
the  throne  of  Filippo  Lippi.     And  in  the  fact  was  a  vast 
significance — not  only  for  Florentine  art  but  for  all  Italy. 

From  the  moment  that  Christianity  had  ventured  above- 
ground  out  of  the  catacombs  and  spread  throughout  the 
land,  it  had  lost  its  essential  communism  and  become  a 
part  of  the  Roman  state.  Its  whole  intention  became 
Romanised  and  imperial.  It  dreamed  of  the  kingdom  of 
the  earth.  The  end  of  the  Dark  Ages  saw  the  church  in 
Italy  awakening,  like  all  else  in  Italy,  to  the  classic 
Renaissance  that  was  stirring  throughout  the  land. 

By  the  middle  fourteen-hundreds  the  classic  imagery 
and  classic  concepts  of  antique  Greece  had  arisen  in  the 
land,  and  taken  possession  of  the  Christian  church  in  Italy. 

99 


A   HISTORY 


THE  GOLD-  This  bastard  classicism  and  paganised  Christianity   mated 
SMITH-  and  brought  forth  a  strange  and  beautiful  child — Renaissance 

PAINTERS      Christianity — a    stately    edifice    of    worldly    Christianity, 
^^  wrought,  through  and  through  its  sumptuous  splendours, 

with  the  gold  thread  of  Athenian  ideals  and  forms  and 
intention.  Italy,  from  end  to  end  of  her,  was  a  Splendid 
Sham.  The  republics,  republican  in  name  and  form,  were 
passing  into  the  hands  of  rich  families,  such  as  the  banker 
Medici  in  Florence,  rich  merchant-princes  as  in  Venice, 
powerful  soldier-adventurers  {condottiert)  as  in  Milan.  And 
Christianity,  in  like  fashion,  jealously  preserving  the  name 
and  forms,  was  wholly  Athenianised,  and  become  a  part  of 
statecraft.  By  the  middle  of  the  fourteen-hundreds  the 
revival  of  learning  had  completely  triumphed.  And  the 
man  who  most  exquisitely  and  most  perfectly  uttered  this 
Hellenism  of  Christianity  was  "  the  reanimate  Greek," 
Sandro  Botticelli.  In  his  hand's  skill  was  the  very  incarna- 
tion of  the  Greek  perfection  of  line,  the  haunting  and 
visionary  Greek  sense  of  the  joy  of  beauty  in  the  human 
being.  His  art  utters  the  complete  triumph  of  paganism 
over  Christianity.  At  his  call  Pan  comes  peeping  through 
the  bosky  groves,  his  fluting  is  heard  in  the  meadows,  and 
the  music  of  his  reeden  pipes  is  breathed  from  behind  the 
very  altars.  Pan  has  been  converted  to  Christianity,  but 
his  legs  arc  the  legs  of  the  goats  wont  to  skip  to  the 
Bacchanalian  revels.  The  gods  have  descended  from 
Olympus,  and  walk  in  procession  with  the  saints  to  solemn 
church  music  ;  and  one  is  hard  put  to  it  to  discover  which 
is  saint  and  which  antique  god.  The  spirit  of  the  Greeks 
and  the  spirit  of  the  Christ  are  as  poles  apart,  but  Italy  of 
the  fourteen-hundreds  essayed  to  weld  them  into  a  splendid 
and  sumptuous  whole.  The  result  was  an  astounding 
freshening  of  the  human  aims  and  an  awakening  of  human 

ICG 


XII 

BOTTICELLI 

1444      -      1510 

'THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  MAGNIFICAT" 

known  also  as 

"THE  CORONATION   OF  THE  VIRGIN" 

(From  the  Tondo  in  the  Uffizi) 

Probably  painted  about  1+79.  This  painting  is  world-famous  for  the 
beauty  of  the  head  of  the  Madonna.  The  Virgin  is  writing  her  song  of 
the  Magnificat ;  the  Child  holds  a  symbolic  pomegranate. 

The  tondo  is  44.  inches  in  diameter. 


OF   PAINTING 


DUCED  TO 


aspirations   amidst   a   widespread   debauchery,  racked  with  WHEREIN 
crimes  and  villainies  and  treacheries  such  as  make  of  the  WE   ARE 
Renaissance    years    one    vast    shame.      And    this    strange  INTRO- 
paradox  stands  out  in  nothing  more  skilfully  revealed  than 
in  the  art  of  painting  that  was  the  glory  of  this  perplexing  ^^   twf 
age,  and   in   none   more   hauntingly  than  in  the  beautiful  qpdt>j(- 
and  wistful  art  of  Sandro  Botticelli.  TIME   OF 

The  son  of  a  tanner  of  Florence,  Sandro  Botticelli,  the  THE  RE- 
youngest  of  four  brothers,  was  dubbed  his  nickname  of  NAISSANCE 
Botticelli,  or  "  Little  Cask,"  after  the  little  barrel  that  hung 
as  a  sign  outside  his  elder  brother  Giovanni's  shop.  The 
family  name  was  dei  Filipepi,  but  Botticelli  always  signed 
himself  "  Sandro  di  Mariano."  He  seems  to  have  been 
the  son  of  a  second  marriage,  since  he  was  young  enough 
to  be  his  elder  brother  Giovanni  the  tanner's  child. 
Apprenticed  as  a  boy  of  fifteen  to  a  goldsmith,  his  brother 
Antonio,  Botticelli  had,  soon  thereafter,  about  the  age  of 
sixteen,  stepped  from  the  goldsmithing  into  the  studio  of 
Fra  Filippo  Lippi  at  Prato  (1460),  and  for  some  years  he 
worked  under  that  master  ;  but  by  the  time  Filippo  Lippi 
left  for  Spoleto  (1468),  Botticelli  at  twenty-four  returned 
to  Florence  and  was  working  for  the  brothers  Pollaiuolo, 
and  was  already  making  a  name  for  himself  in  Florence, 
indeed  was  come  to  considerable  fame.  But  though 
Botticelli's  artistry  is  founded  deep  upon  the  artistry  of 
Filippo  Lippi,  he  was  at  the  same  time  enormously  in- 
fluenced by  Antonio  Pollaiuolo,  who  revealed  to  him  his 
knowledge  of  anatomy,  which  until  his  day  had  not  been 
of  the  most  marked  interest  to  the  painters.  The  long 
panel  of  the  Adoration  at  the  National  Gallery  in  London, 
once  given  to  Filippino  Lippi,  was  painted  by  Botticelli 
whilst  with  Fra  Lippo  Lippi. 

How  closely  akin  was  the  artistry  of  Botticelli  to  his 

lOI 


A   HISTORY 


THE  GOLD- 
SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


contemporaries  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  in  the  National 
Gallery  in  London,  Botticelli's  two  early  pictures  of  the 
Adoration  of  the  Magi  still  remain  officially  attributed  to 
Filippino  Lippi.  The  well-known  Portrait  of  a  Toung  Man, 
in  the  same  Gallery,  is  a  superb  work  of  about  1482,  his 
thirty-eighth  year.  And  he  made  his  religious  paintings 
an  excuse  for  the  portraiture  of  the  celebrities  of  his  day, 
as  was  become  the  fashion  of  his  generation.  But  it  is  in 
the  world-famous  FrimaverUy  or  Allegory  of  Spring,  in  the 
Academy  at  Florence,  painted  in  1478,  his  thirty-fourth 
year  ;  the  Mars  and  Venus,  now  in  the  National  Gallery, 
painted  about  1485,  his  forty-first  year;  and  the  Birth  of 
Venus  in  the  Uffizi,  painted  in  the  following,  his  forty- 
second  year,  that  Botticelli's  supreme  achievement  is  seen 
in  all  its  poetic  intensity,  its  exquisite  imagination,  its 
haunting  sweet-sad  melancholy,  its  wistfulness,  its  superb 
sense  of  colour,  its  mastery  of  line,  and  above  all  in  its 
Hellenism  as  seen  through  Italian  eyes. 

The  Birth  of  Venus  might  well  stand  for  the  revelation 
of  Botticelli  and  the  age  of  Botticelli — as  though  paganised 
angels  wafted  rude  Hellenism  over  fair  seas,  amidst  showers 
of  roses,  to  the  shores  of  Italy,  into  the  arms  of  the  spring- 
time of  the  Renaissance.  And  the  Primavera,  that  allegory 
of  springtime,  might  well  stand  for  the  triumph  of  Hellen- 
ism in  Italy,  re-clothed  and  transplanted  to  a  new  world. 

The  Mars  and  Venus  is  the  complete  conquest  of  the 
new  Hellenism.  It  is  also  known  as  Alexander  and  his 
bride  Roxana,  and,  indeed,  would  seem  to  illustrate  the  lines 
wherein  Lucian  tells  of  the  nuptials  of  Alexander  and 
Roxana,  even  to  the  doings  of  the  little  goat-legged  infant 
satyrlings  who  frolic  with  the  stripped  Alexander's  armour. 
Nor  was  it  the  only  time  that  Lucian's  writings  inspired 
102 


OF   PAINTING 


the  fantastic  genius  of  Botticelli,  as  his  Calumny  of  Apelles  WHEREIN 

at  the  Uffizi  proves.     Whether  Alexander  or  Mars  is  at  WE   ARE 

best  a  formality — the  sleeping  warrior  is  said  to  be  Giuliano  ^NTRO- 

de'  Medici,  dreamin?  of  his  beloved  Simonetta  who  reclines  ^^CED   TO 

THF    POFX 
at  his  feet — La  Bella  Simonetta,  the  beautiful  young  wife  of  ^^   thf 

Marco  Vespucci ;  she,  who  was  the  reigning  beauty  of  the  SPRING 
age,  inspired  the  genius  of  "the  reanimate  Greek";  she  who,  TIME  OF 
when  she  died  in  1476,  was  borne  to  her  grave  through  the  THE  RE- 
streets  of  Florence  with  her  face  uncovered  that  the  world  NAISSANCE 
might  see  the  last  of  her  wondrous  and  much-hymned 
beauty.  La  Bella  Simonetta  was  the  most  famed  queen  in 
that  reign  of  passion,  made  exquisite  in  picture  and  fashion 
and  song,  called  the  "  epidemic  of  love,"  that  held  Florence 
as  in  a  splendid  dream  during  Lorenzo  de'  Medici's  mag- 
nificent reign.  Much  argument  has  been  lavished  upon 
the  dates  of  the  creation  of  works  by  Botticelli's  genius ; 
but  the  pretty  business  is  largely  academic  guesswork  and 
the  froth  of  wiseacres  ;  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  this 
great  picture,  tingling  with  the  passion  of  desire,  if  it  give 
us  the  presentment  of  Giuliano  and  La  Bella  Simonetta, 
was  painted  except  from  the  life  ;  yet  by  all  the  authorities 
and  experts  it  is  held  to  have  been  painted  in  1485,  nine 
years  after  the  beauty  was  carried  to  her  grave  with  face 
uncovered,  and  seven  years  after  Giuliano,  romantic  idol  of 
Florence,  and  knight  of  her  chivalry  and  gallantry,  had  been 
struck  down  by  the  assassins  of  the  Pazzi  conspiracy  as  he 
knelt  at  mass,  and  himself  borne  to  his  grave  a  couple 
of  years  after  his  beloved  Simonetta. 

It  is  here,  as  always  in  his  classic  mood,  that  Botticelli 
is  seen  in  the  supreme  exercise  of  his  genius — here  that  he 
makes  us  feel  the  true  atmosphere  of  his  age.  It  was  an 
atmosphere  of  exquisiteness,  and  Neo-Platonism  was  in  full 
flower — Neo-Platonism,  the  Greek  spirit  in  its  decline,  the 

103 


A   HISTORY 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


THE  GOLD-  Greek  spirit  rubbing  eyes  of  wonder  at  the  new  gospel  of 
pity  and  love  that  was  coming  to  her  from  the  East,  to 
change  her  standards  of  heroism  and  her  ideals.  It  was 
only  this  Platonic  Hellenism  that  could  be  welded  into  the 
Christian  system  ;  and  all  the  culture  of  Italy  was  essaying 
so  to  weld  it.  And  of  that  essaying,  Botticelli  is  the 
supreme  and  consummate  spirit,  in  the  years  that  Lorenzo 
the  Magnificent  was  lord  of  the  destinies  of  Florence. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  the  artists  are  now  em- 
ploying the  groups  in  sacred  subjects  to  paint  the  portraits 
of  the  famous  folk  of  the  times.  Art  is  passing  from  the 
patronage  of  the  church  to  the  palaces  of  the  great.  And 
it  was  a  rare  and  handsome  discovery  that  revealed,  in  the 
private  apartments  of  the  Pitti  Palace  in  Florence,  that 
Pallas  and  the  Centaur^  only  some  dozen  years  gone  by, 
which  Botticelli  painted  for  the  Medici  family  to  com- 
memorate the  success  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici's  daring 
diplomatic  success  in  winning  back  the  friendship  of  the 
King  of  Naples  in  1479. 

In  his  church  pictures,  Botticelli  is  not  generally  seen 
in  the  same  freedom  of  artistry ;  some  trammel  that  he  was 
never  wholly  able  to  shake  from  him,  checked  his  full 
genius,  even  in  his  most  exquisite  Madonna  pieces,  though 
it  was  in  his  Madonnas  that  he  created  masterwork  which 
holds  the  poetic  atmosphere  of  his  age,  that  haunting  sense 
of  beauty  and  of  mystic  wonder  that  never  deserts  his 
sensing,  and  to  the  interpretation  of  which  his  hand's 
skill  brought  such  astounding  craftsmanship.  What  more 
beautiful  face  does  the  whole  Renaissance  reveal  to  us  than 
Botticelli's  Madonna  in  the  Magnificat,  or,  as  it  is  also 
known,  The  Coronation  of  the  Virgin  ?  that  circular  picture 
which  he  is  said  to  have  founded  upon  an  unfolded 
rose. 

104 


OF   PAINTING 


The  genius  of  Botticelli  is  so  remarkable,  that  critics  WHEREIN 
have  come  to  look  upon  all  he  wrought  as  of  prime  value  ;  WE   ARE 
and  the  Nativity  at  the  National  Gallery  has  received  by  INTRO- 
consequence   inordinate   praise  ;    but   his   faults   stand    out  ^^^ED   TO 
therein  perhaps  in  emphasised  fashion,  for  all  its  many  fine      irr,^^ 
qualities  ;  and  the  picture,  like  many  of  his  Roman  frescoes,  cddtxt/- 
shows  ialtermg  and  hesitation  and  some  lack  of  unity,  both  xiME  OF 
in  handling  and  arrangement  and  conception.     At  the  foot  THE   RE- 
of  the   design,   painted   on   canvas,  are   three  young  men,  NAISSANCE 
Savonarola  and  his  fellow-martyrs,   Fra  Silvestro  and  Fra 
Domenico,  embraced  by  rejoicing  angels,  the  devils  creeping 
away  to  hide  behind  rocks.     The  faults  of  the  Renaissance 
and  the  limitations  of  the  Renaissance  reveal  themselves. 
He   was   in  his   fifty-sixth   year  when   he  painted  it ;    his 
gaiety  of  spirit   and   rejoicing   in   the  fresh   harmonies   of 
nature,  seen  in  the  paganism  of  his  classic  pieces,  has  given 
way  to  the  more  sombre  religious  resentment  at  the  de- 
struction and  death  of  Savonarola  ;  and  there  breathes  from 
the  work  not  only  the  new  and  tragic  note  of  the  collapse 
of  early    Christianity    under    the    classic    spirit    of    Neo- 
Platonism,  but  the  base  form,  of  Greek,  in  which  he  wrote 
his  testament  above  it,  holds  something  of  a  grim  desire  to 
affirm  his  resentment  against  his  dread  : — "  I,  Alessandro, 
painted  this  picture   at  the  end  of  the  year  1500,  during 
the  troubles  in  Italy,  in  the  half-time  after  the  time  during 
the  fulfilment  of  the  Eleventh  Chapter  of  St.  John,  in  the 
second  woe  of  the  Apocalypse,  in  the  loosening  on  Earth  of 
the  Devil  for  three  and  a  half  years.     After  which  he  shall 
be  chained,  and  we  shall  see  him  trodden  under  foot  as  in 
this  picture."     There  is  revealed  the  rank  superstition  that 
betrays  the  narrow  advance  of  Savonarola  and  Botticelli  and 
the  world. 

Botticelli   had  early  come  to  favour  with   the  Medici 
VOL.  I — o  105 


A   HISTORY 


THE  GOLD- 
SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


princes  ;  he  was  a  pleasant  jovial  man,  if  a  man  of  moods, 
and  loved  good  talk.  The  young  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
became  his  friend,  amongst  others — and,  like  Leonardo, 
Botticelli  never  married. 

Botticelli  had  been  called  to  Rome,  with  Ghirlandaio 
and  others,  by  Pope  Sixtus  iv.  in  1482,  his  thirty-eighth 
year,  to  take  part  in  the  decoration  of  the  famous  Sistine 
Chapel ;  and  three  frescoes  were  wrought  by  him  that  are 
a  part  of  its  glory,  though  they  do  not  reach  to  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  great  Hellenic  pieces.  However,  his  fame 
greatly  increased,  money  poured  in,  and  he  squandered  it 
with  his  wonted  recklessness.  He  was  now  the  supreme 
painter  of  his  age.  To  this  period  is  said  to  belong  his 
great  achievement — The  Birth  of  Venus. 

Then  loomed  up  the  tragedy  of  Savonarola  for  all 
Florence.  It  was  in  1490  that  the  tragic  figure  of  the 
Dominican  prior  of  San  Marco  entered  into  the  tangled 
history  of  the  age,  for,  in  that  year,  Savonarola  made  his 
home  in  Florence,  and  forthwith  filled  the  air  thereof  with 
black  prophecies  and  bitter  denunciations  of  the  corruption 
of  the  Church  and  of  the  Republic.  Lorenzo  the  Mag- 
nificent was  only  to  know  the  beginning  of  it,  for  he  died 
in  1492,  the  year  that  saw  a  Borgia  seated  upon  the  chair 
of  St.  Peter.  For  a  few  years  Savonarola  held  the  Republic 
together,  inspiring  Florence  by  his  great  personality — by 
1496  he  was  foul  of  the  Pope,  and  not  only  a  Pope  but  a 
Borgia.  The  end  was  inevitable.  The  craft  of  the 
Borgias  failed.  Alexander  vi.  struck.  On  the  last  day  of 
the  carnival  of  1497,  an  immense  pile  of  the  most  glorious 
works  of  art,  pictures,  statues,  miniatures,  went  up  in  the 
smoke  of  wanton  religious  mania,  amidst  the  exultation  of 
the  people.  In  a  couple  of  years  Savonarola  had  lost  his  hold 
upon  the  city — the  Borgia  had  triumphed.  After  ghastly 
106 


OF   PAINTING 


torments  upon  the  rack,  he  was  hanged  over  a  fire  on  the  WHEREIN 
23rd  of  May  1498.  WE   ARE 

Botticelli   had  looked  up  to   Savonarola  with  the  en-  INTRO- 
thusiasm  of  an  artistic  nature ;   the  fall  and  execution  of  DUCED   TO 
the    friar,    and    the    fierce    and    passionate    resentment    of     IT^J^^ 
Savonarola's  followers,  known  as  the  Piagnoni,  turned  his  cpT^T1^^p 
always  wistful  and  sweet-sad  spirit  to  a  profound  spiritual  xjjyiE   qF 
melancholy.      Vasari's  gossip  pen  tells  us  that  he  gave  up  XHE   RE- 
all  endeavour.     It  is  certain  that  his  artistic  utterance  lost  NAISSANCE 
its    calm  and   wistful   exultation,  and  became   restless   and 
brooding.       He   was   already  old   and   broken   beyond   his 
years  ;  he  was  to  live  a  decade  longer,  and  to  his  workshop 
came  the  many  out-of-work  artists  who  had  suff^ered  for 
the  broken  cause — foregathering  there  in  the  evenings  and 
talking   of  the    past   days   when   "  Christ  was    king   over 
Florence.*'      Ghirlandaio,   and   Botticelli's  pupil   Filippino 
Lippi,  went  to  the  grave  before  him;  Botticelli,  hobbling 
on  crutches,  went  to  his  gloomy  end,  passing  away  on  the 
17th  of  May  1 5 10,  in  his  sixty-sixth  year,  a  broken  man — 
broken  in  spirit,  broken  in  fortune,  broken  in  health — the 
supreme  genius  of  his  age,  and  the  recognised  champion  of 
its  achievement  in  painting.     The  springtime  of  the  Greek 
spirit  in  Italy  was  come  and  gone — that  spirit  so  wondrously 
expressed   in   pure  poetic    ecstasy    of  line    and    form    and 
colour  in  the  Primavera  and  Birth  of  Venus.     A  sombre  and 
brooding  age  was  to   follow,  of  which   his  spirit  had  no 
understanding  nor  his   art  any  conception.     The  real  and 
full  significance  of  the  New  Learning  passed  him  by,  as  it 
was  to  pass  by  all  Italy ;  it  was  too  great  for  his  conception 
or  his  strength — he  came  of  a  people  too  heavily  overborne 
by  tradition  to  shake  off  the  shackles  of  the  past.      It  was 
to  set  the  North  aflame,  and  bring  the  peoples  of  the  north 
into  their  heritage.     Rouse  Italy  it  did,  but  only  to  end 

107 


A   HISTORY 


THE  GOLD-  therein  in  a  wistful  sadness.     Its  full  significance  was  to  pass 

SMITH-  over  the  mountains  to  the  north  and  seek  fulfilment  in  the 

PAINTERS      ^ygsi-   in   that   strange   destiny   that    would    seem   to   make 

^^  nroeress   hunger  to   march   towards  the   end  of  the  earth 

where  the  setting  sun  sinks   in   a   golden   promise   of  the 

days  to  come.      For  there  are  mightier,  vaster  things  than 

beauty  and  dreams ;  and  strength  and  vigour  and  freedom 

are  of  first  need  to  the  body  that  would  essay  the  mighty 

adventure  of   the    fulness  of  life — and   Botticelli   had   not 

even  dreamed  of  these  necessities  in  his  exquisite  visions. 

Savonarola  could  denounce  the  Pope  even  where  he  sat  on 

the    chair    of    Christendom  —  his    eyes    foresaw    the    new 

spirit  that  was  to  come  over  that  church  and  over  all  Italy 

— but  he  shrank  from  Luther's  daring  to  burn  the  bulls  of 

Rome  or  to  break  from  her  authority. 

Indeed,  Botticelli  and  Botticelli's  age  were  turning 
longing  sad  eyes  backwards,  glorifying  what  had  been,  and 
intent  on  the  false  gods  that  were  seizing  at  the  reins  of 
tyrannies  and  little  despotisms,  instead  of  the  welding  of  a 
great  people  into  a  vigorous  brotherhood. 

Yet  he  brought  to  his  art,  to  the  utterance  of  his  age,  a 
sense  of  line  and  form  that  recalled  the  genius  of  Athenian 
days  ;  and  his  hand's  skill  found  an  exquisite  craftsmanship 
that  revealed  with  consummate  mastery  the  desire  of  his 
emotions.  He  was,  like  all  great  artists,  a  visionary  ;  he 
employed  the  dangerously  parochial  tricks  of  symbolism 
without  weakening  his  power  of  suggesting  mystic  sensa- 
tions into  our  sensing  even  in  an  age  that  has  passed  beyond 
the  conceptions  and  ideals  of  his  day.  That  he  was  keenly 
sensitive  to  the  gloomy  and  morose  art  of  Dante,  and  that 
his  feet  were  still  firmly  planted  upon  the  harsh  ground  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  his  drawings  in  illustration  of  Dante's 
poems  abundantly  prove,  as  one  may  see  at  Berlin.  But 
io8 


OF   PAINTING 


though  his  spiritual  sense  reveals  a  haunting  and  wondrous  WHEREIN 

vision,  it  is  ever  the  questioning  of  life  ;  it  bathes  all  his  WE   ARE 

art  in  sweet  sadness  as  of  the  twilieht  ;  and  in  nothing  is  it  1-^TRO- 

more  exquisitely  eiven  forth  than  in  the  exhalation  as  of  a  ^^"^^^    ^^ 

THF    POET 
delicate  fragrance  that  breathes  from  his  nervous  haunted  ti^v 

Madonnas,  sighing  at  the  strange  destiny  that  has  beckoned  -pT^T^^-^ 
to  them  to  bear  the  sublime  honour  of  being  the  Mother  ji\,i£   qF 
of  God.     Botticelli  created  a  new  type  of  beauty  of  which  jhE   RE- 
Athens    knew    naught — even   as    he   essayed   to  grasp  the  NAISSANCE 
significance    of  Hellenism   and   bring   it  into  the  flower- 
carpeted   Italian  meadows.     But  the  Madonna  has  heard 
the  pipes  of  Pan,  if  only  by  the  distant  woodlands  ;  and  her 
eyes  are  held  by  the  ghostly  and  twilight  vision  that  is  in 
the  eves  of  the  pallid  goddesses  who  dance  like  shadows  in 
the  pale  springtime  of  his  great  design,  or  step  out  of  the 
tender-hued   and   stormless   seas   ot    his   dreams   on  to  the 
gentle  grassy  shores  of  his  Italv. 

Of  all  who  ever  wrought  art,  no  man,  whether  Greek 
or  Japanese,  employed  line  with  such  astounding  musical 
utterance  as  Botticelli.  The  only  man  of  modem  times 
who  approached  him  was  Aubrey  Beardsley.  His  line 
gives  forth  rhythm  to  the  sense  of  sight  as  of  viols  and 
lutes  played  by  the  wizardy  of  genius  into  our  hearing. 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    BOTTICELLI 

Modern  research  has  done  much  to  wi.-:  bic.-:  3  ::::ceUi  s 
name  to  his  many  usurped  masterpieces,  ar.i  ::  :ii  r.is  name 
from  the  works  of  lesser  men.  A  nameless  ••  .\:-::c:  di 
Sandro" — Friend  of  Sandro — has  been  brought  back  to 
nameless  honour.  And  tc  Francesco  Botticini,  of  con- 
fusing name,  has  been  given  back  much  work  for  long 
filched   of  his   credit    and    attributed    tc    Botticelli.      Mr. 

109 


THE  GOLD- 
SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


PAINTING 

Berenson,  the  authority  on  the  Italian  Schools,  has  done 
yeoman  service  in  unravelling  the  tangled  knot. 

Of  Botticelli's  pupils,  the  most  famous  was  Filippino 
Lippi,  the  son  of  Botticelli's  master,  Fra  Filippo  Lippi  and 
of  his  nun  wife  ;  but  another  goldsmith-painter,  Ghirlandaio, 
first  claims  a  tribute,  who  wrought  and  lived  within  the 
years  of  Botticelli,  and  beside  him,  and  with  him,  and  died 
before  him.  Ghirlandaio  had  not  the  superb  genius  of  his 
great  fellow-artist ;  his  art  gave  forth  but  in  narrower 
fashion  the  conception  of  the  age  ;  but  he  wrought,  with 
delightful  colour-sense  and  remarkable  style,  an  art  that 
was  worthy  of  his  times  and  a  significance,  of  a  temper 
gracious  and  amiable,  and  of  a  pleasing  achievement  as 
musical  as  his  name. 


no 


XIII 

SCHOOL  OF 
DOMENICO  GHIRLANDAIO 
1449  -  1494 

FLORENTINE  SCHOOL 

« PORTRAIT  OF  A  GIRL  " 

(National  Gallery) 

Note. — This  picture  is  probably  by  Bastiano  Mainardi,  the  brother-in- 
law  and  assistant  of  Domenico  Ghirlandaio. 

The  exquisite  colour-scheme  is  particularly  remarkable  for  the  beauty 
of  the  painting  of  the  hair,  and  its  freshness  of  quality. 

Painted  in  tempera  on  wood,     i  ft.  4  in.  x  10^  in.  (0*405  m.  x  o"26). 


CHAPTER   XIII 

OF  AN  EXQUISITE  MAKER  OF  GARLANDS 

GHIRLANDAIO 

1449       -       1494 
To  a  silk-weaver  of  Florence,  one  Tomasso  Bigordi,  was  OF  AN 
born    in    1449  his  eldest  son   Domenico  del   Ghirlandaio.  EXQUISITE 
The    child   was   therefore    some   five    years    younger    than  MAKhR   Oi:< 
Botticelli.     Ghirlandaio,  the  eldest  of  the  three  sons  of  our  GARLANDS 
worthy    silk-merchant,    was    apprenticed    to    a    goldsmith, 
famous  in  the  Florence  of  these  days  as  the  maker  of  the 
jewelled  coronals  called  ghirlande,  worn  by  the  ladies  of  this 
city — and  thereby  Bigordi's  eldest  lad  came  to  the  name 
which   has   made   him   immortal.     Like   so   many    of  the 
jewel-workers,    Ghirlandaio    was    early    using    the    brush 
also,   became  the  pupil  of  Alessio    Baldovinetti,   and    was 
soon  so  well  known  that  he  was  painting' panel-pictures  and 
frescoes   as  far   away  as   Rome   and   Lucca,   Pisa  and  San 
Gimignano.     Ghirlandaio's  art  is  perhaps  more  obviously 
and  easily  seen  than  that  of  Botticelli ;  he  reveals  the  more 
trivial  side  of  the  Florentine  temperament,  with  its  love  of 
colours  and  innate  sense  of  design,  not  without  formality. 
But  few  who  sense  the  significance  of  art  would  to-day  dub 
him  "  the  connecting  link  between  the  frescoes  of  Masaccio 
and  of  Raphael."    He  is  said  to  have  scolded  his  apprentices 
roundly  for  not  carrying  out  trivial  orders  for  patrons  which 
would  have  filled  his  pockets  with  gold  ;  and  his  art  is  not 
without  the  hint  of  a  somewhat  commonplace  mind.     He 
wholly  lacks  the  poetic  genius  of  Botticelli. 

Ill 


THE  GOLD- 
SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


A    HISTORY 

Ghirlandaio's  frescoes  painted  in  the  Sassetti  Chapel  in 
the  Church  of  S.  Trinita  at  Florence  in  1485,  his  thirty- 
sixth  year,  are  well  known  ;  but  it  is  to  the  Church  of 
Santa  Maria  Novella  in  Florence  that  one  must  go  to  see 
the  supreme  achievement  of  Ghirlandaio's  art  in  fresco,  in 
that  series  which  he  painted,  along  with  his  brother  David, 
for  Giovanni  Tornabuoni,  of  scenes  from  the  Lives  of  St.  "John 
the  Baptist  and  the  Virgin  Mary — and  to  which,  after  five 
years  of  labour  upon  them,  he  in  1490  set  his  signature 
Bighordi  Grillandai. 

There  had  entered  Ghirlandaio's  workshop  in  1484,  the 
year  before  he  finished  the  frescoes  in  the  Sassetti  Chapel, 
a  boy  of  nine  who  was  to  win  to  a  stupendous  position  in 
the  art  of  all  time  as  Michelangelo  ;  and  'tis  likely  enough 
that  the  wonderful  boy  gazed  upon  the  making  of  these 
frescoes  and  of  the  greater  ones  at  Santa  Maria  Novella  also 
in  his  youth,  for  Ghirlandaio  wrote  his  Jinis  to  the  foot  of 
his  great  masterpieces  when  his  pupil  was  in  his  fifteenth 
year — likely  enough  the  lad  ground  and  mixed  the  paints 
for  their  making  as  he  was  admitted  to  the  secrets  and 
mysteries  of  the  craft  which  he  himself  was  to  employ  in 
the  years  close  at  hand  in  supreme  fashion.  Indeed,  the 
precocious  lad  had  already  astonished  his  master  with  his 
wondrous  gift  of  draughtmanship,  and  was  not  above  cor- 
recting that  master's  drawing. 

It  was  whilst  Ghirlandaio  was  at  his  five  years  of  work 
upon  his  great  frescoes  at  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria 
Novella  for  Giovanni  Tornabuoni,  that  he  came  to  paint, 
in  1488,  on  the  edge  of  forty,  his  superb  Portrait  of 
Giovafina  Tornabuoni,  the  year  in  which  that  beautiful 
woman  died.  Giovanna  degli  Albizzi,  at  the  time  she 
was  married  to  Lorenzo  Tornabuoni,  had  been  painted  by 
Botticelli,  and  her  features  immortalised  thereby  in  superb 
112 


XIV 

FILIPPINO  LIPPI 

1457         -         1504 

TUSCAN  SCHOOL 

"THE  VIRGIN  AND  CHILD,  WITH  ST.  JEROME  AND 
ST.  DOMINIC" 

(National  Gallery) 

This,  the  centre  panel,  shows  the  Virgin  seated  in  the  midst  of  a  land- 
scape, with  the  Infant  Christ  at  her  breast.  On  the  left  kneels  St.  Jerome 
clasping  in  his  upraised  hands  a  stone,  with  which  he  is  about  to  beat  his 
bare  breast ;  on  the  right  kneels  St.  Dominic  reading  in  a  book  and  holding 
his  emblem  the  lily.  In  the  background  are  various  incidents  from  the  life 
of  St.  Jerome.  The  predella  is  a  Pi&ta  with  half  figures  of  the  Magdalen 
and  St.  Francis  at  either  side.  At  the  extreme  ends  are  the  arms  ol  the 
Rucellal  family,  for  whom  the  picture  was  painted. 

Painted  in  tempera  on  wood.  Centre  panel  6  ft.  9  in.  h.  x  6  ft.  i  in.  w. 
(2-056  X  1-853). 

Predella  8  in.  h.  x  7  ft.  9  in.  w.  (0-203  >^  2-361), 


OF   PAINTING 


frescoes  wrought  by  him  for  the  Villa  Lemmi,  and  passed  OF  AN 

out  of  sight  under  the  whitewash   of  neglect   until  some  EXQUISITE 

thirty  years  or  so  ago,  when  they  were  discovered,  on  the  MAKER   OF 

whitewash   being   taken   away,  and   were  removed   to   the  ^■^i^^-^'^-L'i> 

Louvre,  where  they  are  now  one  of  France's  most  prized 

treasures.     Giovanna  Tornabuoni  was  fortunate  indeed  in 

her  limners,  for  her  portrait  by  Ghirlandaio,  that  used  to 

hang  on  loan  in  the  National  Gallery  in  London,  and  has 

now  passed  into  the  possession  of  Mr.  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  is 

one  of  the  supreme  achievements  in  the  whole  portraiture 

of  the  Italian  Renaissance.     The  pure  and  exquisite  profile, 

marked  with  all  that  strange  grace  and  haunting  distinction 

so  inherent  to  the  age,  shows  the  ideal  lady  of  quality  who 

called  forth  the  Florentine  poet's  praises  when  the  fourteen- 

hundreds  were  at  their  full. 

Amongst  what  were  destined  to  be  the  last  works  from 
Ghirlandaio's  hand,  was  the  large  panel  of  the  Visitation  at 
the  Louvre,  painted  for  Lorenzo  Tornabuoni  the  year  after 
his  beautiful  Giovanna  died — for  it  is  dated  1491 — impres- 
sive in  its  simplicity,  and  treated  with  rare  and  noble 
grandeur  of  conception. 

In  the  Louvre  also  is  the  panel  of  the  famous  Portrait  of  a 
Bottle-nosed  Man  and  Child,  painted  by  Ghirlandaio  as  though 
to  prove  that  a  poet  could  paint  ugliness  with  realistic 
force,  and  yet  convey  the  exquisite  tenderness  that  lies  in 
the  affection  of  a  child,  blind  to  the  defects  of  the  thing  it 
loves  ;  and  with  what  exquisite  gifts  Ghirlandaio  achieved 
his  art,  the  wide  world  has  proved  by  its  homage  to  the 
grace  and  charm  whereby  the  winsome  child  wins  its  way 
into  our  affections  with  its  love  for  the  tender-hearted  man 
whose  affectionate  eyes  peep  through  so  plain  a  mask. 

It  has  been  charged  against  Ghirlandaio  that  his  art  is 
weak    in    religious    sentiment    and    in    poetic    imagination. 
VOL.  I — p  1 1 3 


PAINTING 


THE  GOLD- 
SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


The  word  "  poetic  "  is  all  too  much  an  affair  of  cheapness. 
No  man  is  an  artist  unless  he  be  a  poet.  Poet  is  but  the 
label  for  an  artist  in  words ;  artist  but  the  label  for  a  poet 
in  colour  or  form.  But  in  imagination  Ghirlandaio,  though 
he  may  not  have  been  compelling,  was  certainly  not  lacking, 
as  his  colour-sense  fully  reveals.  His  decorative  sense  was 
glowing  and  most  markedly  personal,  and  there  is  in  all  he 
did  the  well-bred  sense  of  elegance.  He,  like  Botticelli, 
Benozzo  Gozzoli,  and  the  painters  of  his  age,  has  left  us 
a  rich  store  of  portraiture  of  the  great  folk  of  the  late 
fourteen-hundreds. 

Ghirlandaio  was  to  be  cut  off  in  the  height  of  his 
career.  He  died  suddenly,  falling  a  victim  to  the  plague 
of  1494,  in  his  forty-fifth  year,  and  his  dust  rests  in  the 
church  of  Santa  Maria  Novella,  which  his  hand's  skill  did 
so  much  to  adorn. 


GHIRLANDAIO'S    ARTIST    KINSMEN 

There  is  a  charming  painting,  Portrait  of  a  Girl^  in 
the  National  Gallery  in  London,  delightfully  tinged  with 
Ghirlandaio's  quaint  fancy,  and  long  set  down  to  Ghir- 
landaio's  credit ;  it  is  now  challenged  as  more  likely  to 
have  been  the  work  of  Bastiano  Mainardi,  Ghirlandaio's 
brother-in-law ; — whether  so  or  not,  the  painting  of  the 
girl's  fair  hair  is  exquisite.  Both  of  Domenico  del  Ghir- 
landaio's brothers,  David  and  Benedetto  Bigordi,  were 
painters  and  assistants  to  Ghirlandaio,  though  they  never 
reached  to  his  gifts.  And  Ghirlandaio's  son  Ridolfo  (1483- 
1561)  is  said  to  have  completed  the  painting  of  the 
draperies  on  Raphael's  La  Belle  yardiniere.  This  Ridolfo 
learnt  his  craft  as  pupil  to  Francesco  Granacci,  who  had 
been  pupil  to  his  father  Ghirlandaio. 


114 


CHAPTER    XIV 

OF  THE  SON  OF  A  FRIAR  AND  A  NUN 

But   to   get   back   to   the    masters    of  the    age,    the    con-  OF  THE 
temporaries  of  Botticelli  and  Ghirlandaio ;   the  greatest  of  SON   OF   A 
Botticelli's  pupils  was  FRIAR  AND 


FILIPPINO  LIPPI 

1457        -         1504 

Filippino  Lippi,  "  Little  Philip  Lippi,"  the  love-child  of 
Fra  Filippo  Lippi  and  Lucrezia  Buti,  the  nun,  was  born 
at  Prato  in  1457,  amidst  the  scandal  of  the  place.  The 
worldly  friar  died  when  the  child  was  but  twelve  years  old, 
the  boy  passing  to  the  care  of  Fra  Diamante,  who  had 
been  the  friar's  fellow-worker  and  humble  partner  in  his 
artistry.  The  reckless  friar  seems,  indeed,  to  have  kept  the 
affection  of  the  scandalised  monks  of  his  order.  The  lad 
Filippino  Lippi  soon  thereafter  was  working  in  the  studio 
of  Botticelli,  and  the  art  of  Botticelli  reveals  its  influence 
over  all  that  the  son  of  his  own  master  was  to  give  to  the 
world.  Filippino  Lippi*s  early  work  is  so  absolutely 
founded  upon  the  art  of  his  master,  that  his  name  has 
undoubtedly  been  given  to  several  of  Botticelli's  paintings 
— and  is  still  so  given  even  in  one  or  two  of  the  great 
galleries,  though  there  is  much  disputing  thereon  by  the 
scientific  writers  upon  art.  Several  paintings  by  Botticelli 
are  given  to  Filippino  Lippi  in  the  National  Gallery  in 
London. 

In    1480,  his  twenty-third  year,   Filippino   Lippi  was 

115 


A  NUN 


A   HISTORY 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


THE  GOLD-  appointed  to  paint  his  Vision  of  St.  Bernard  in  the  Badia  at 
Florence,  and  had  thus  early  made  considerable  reputation 
— his  achievement  greatly  increased  it ;  for,  four  years  there- 
after, in  1484,  his  twenty-seventh  year,  FiHppino  Lippi 
was  appointed  to  finish  the  frescoes  in  the  Brancacci  Chapel 
of  the  Carmine  Church  which  had  been  left  incomplete 
by  Masaccio  at  his  early  death  half  a  century  before, 
and  the  young  fellow  adapted  his  gifts  with  astonishing 
judgment  to  utter  an  art  in  tune  with  that  of  the  great 
dead  master. 

Three  years  after  he  began  his  work  upon  the  Brancacci 
Chapel,  in  1487,  his  thirtieth  year,  Filippino  Lippi  had  won 
the  approval  of  Filippo  Strozzi,  who  chose  him  to  paint 
the  famous  and  superb,  if  flamboyant,  frescoes  in  the  Chapel 
of  the  Strozzi  Family  at  Santa  Maria  Novella  in  Florence, 
which  have  for  motive  the  lives  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  and 
of  St.  Philip,  his  patron's  patron-saint. 

He  wrought  upon  these  frescoes  for  fifteen  years,  until 
he  was  forty-five,  a  couple  of  years  before  his  death,  on  the 
1 8th  of  April  1504. 

The  world-famous  painting  of  the  Virgin  and  Child,  with 
St.  Jerome  and  St.  Dominic^  in  the  National  Gallery  in 
London,  is  of  the  supreme  achievement  of  Filippino  Lippi's 
art.  Beautiful  and  gracious  in  treatment,  glowing  and 
golden  in  colour,  it  advances  the  art  of  painting  in  its  depth 
and  exquisite  harmonies.  Painted  for  the  Rucellai  Chapel, 
in  the  church  of  San  Pancrazio  at  Florence,  it  was  after- 
wards taken  to  the  Palazzo  Rucellai,  where  it  hung  until 
sold  to  Britain  in  1857,  in  its  complete  form,  including  its 
Predella^  on  the  ends  of  which  are  the  arms  of  the  Rucellai 
family,  whence  it  is  sometimes  known  as  the  Rucellai 
Madonna.  The  golden  landscape,  painted  with  a  glorious 
sense  of  atmosphere,  tells  the  story  of  the  lion  and  the  ass, 
116 


OF   PAINTING 


holding  the  legend  of  St.  Jerome  in  exquisitely  rendered  OF   THE 
restraint.     The  whole  conception  reveals  Filippino   Lippi  SON   OF   A 
at  the  height  of  his  powers,  thrusting  forward  the  art  of  FRIAR   AND 
the  last  years  of  the  fourteen-hundreds  towards  its  modern        ^UN 
development. 

He  thrice  again  reached  nearly  to  this  astounding  accom- 
plishment— in  the  Vision  of  St,  Bernard  2it  the  Badia ;  in  the 
tondo  of  the  Virgin  and  Child^  with  St.  John,  St.  Joseph,  and 
St.  Margaret,  now  in  the  Warren  collection  at  Boston  in 
the  United  States  ;  and  in  the  Altarpiece  in  the  Church  of 
S.  Spirito  at  Florence. 

In  the  year  1504,  that  was  to  see  the  death  of  Filippino 
Lippi  at  forty-seven,  there  had  just  been  finished  the  statue 
of  David  by  Michelangelo,  now  grown  to  ever-increasing 
fame,  on  the  edge  of  his  thirtieth  year. 

That  Filippino  Lippi  was  held  in  high  honour  in  the 
Florence  of  his  day  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  he  was  one 
of  the  jury  called  together  to  settle  the  site  on  which 
Michelangelo's  great  statue  of  David  was  to  stand. 

In  the  church  of  S.  Maria  Sopra  Minerva  at  Rome, 
where  Galileo  was  later  to  sign  his  famous  recantation, 
Filippino  Lippi  painted  a  Triumph  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas. 

Of  Filippino  Lippi's  pupils,  two  were  of  the  name  of 
Raffaelo,  and  a  third  Raffaelo  of  the  same  time  adds  con- 
fusion, especially  as  all  three  were  sons  of  Bartolommeos. 
Raffaelo,  called  Raffaellino  del  Garbo  (1466- 15 24),  has 
much  of  the  delicacy  and  charm  of  Lorenzo  di  Credi  ;  and 
several  of  Filippino  Lippi's  works  have  been  credited  to 
him.  His  chief  works  are  a  Virgin  and  Child  at  Berlin  ;  an 
altarpiece  at  S.  Spirito,  Florence  ;  and  a  Resurrection  in 
the  Academy  at  Florence.  Raffaelo  de'  Capponi,  another 
pupil  of  Filippino  Lippi,  is  best  known  by  his  altarpiece 
in  S.  Maria  Nuova  at  Florence.     Raffaelo  de'  Carli  was 

117 


A   HISTORY 


THE  GOLD-  a  painter  of  a  style  akin  to  that  of  Perugino,  and  is  best 
known  by  his  altar-piece  (1502)  in  the  Corsini  Palace  at 
Florence. 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


Filippino  Lippi,  whose  face  we  know  from  his  well- 
known  self-portrait  at  the  Uffizi,  shows  in  his  features 
much  of  the  significance  of  his  art.  Already,  as  the  bells 
of  Florence  rang  out  the  fourteen-hundreds,  the  astounding 
achievement  of  Florence  in  art  was  showing  hints  of  that 
love  of  the  flamboyant  that  men  call  baroque,  that  tendency 
to  over-ornamentation  and  elaboration  of  detail  inherent  in 
the  Florentine  liking  for  detail  even  in  its  superb  genius. 
This  elaboration  is  a  threat  that  easily  overbalances  into 
vulgarity,  and  much  of  the  work  of  Filippino  Lippi,  as  in 
the  great  frescoes  at  the  Santa  Maria  Novella,  held  even 
more  than  a  threat,  with  their  over-insistence  on  details  of 
draperies  and  Roman  trophies  upon  over-elaborate  buildings 
in  his  backgrounds.  Already  that  danger  of  the  baroque  is 
come  into  Italy,  led  thereto  by  the  hand  of  this  greatly 
gifted  man.  It  is  when  he  paints  his  exquisite  landscapes 
for  scenery  that  the  beautiful  lands  of  Tuscany  bring  him 
to  his  supreme  endeavour.  He  showed  rare  gifts  of  design 
and  spacing,  and  he  could  paint  his  figures  therein  with 
large  and  dignified  skill  ;  but  he  was  all  too  prone  to 
forsake  the  large  and  simple  breadth  so  beloved  of  the 
genius  of  his  century,  and  to  reject  the  winsome,  delicate 
and  ethereal  types  for  less  spiritual  ideals,  and  to  get  lost  in 
a  restless  and  bizarre  confusion  of  elaborate  ornament  and 
arrangement. 

Therein  he  but  voiced  the  Florence  of  his  day.     As  the 

Renaissance  in  Italy  reached  towards  1500,  the  Greek  spirit, 

that  had  brought  doubt  into  the  land,  had  triumphed,  and 

worldly  ideals  of  worldly  success  had  wrecked  the  simpler 

118 


OF   PAINTING 


ideals  of  an  earlier  faith.     The  saints  and  madonnas  still  held  OF   THE 
the  centre   of  the  canvas,   but   swiftly   the   simplicity  was  SON   OF   A 
going  out  of  them,  and  a  new  significance,  the  breath  of  FRIAR   AND 
science,  was  withering  their  ancient  freshness.     Sincerity  in  ^   NUN 
art  was  flitting  from  the  church,  to  be  replaced  by  sumptuous 
splendour  in  the  palaces  of  the  great,  leaving  a  handsome 
husk  behind — for  the  Great   demanded   magnificence  and 
the  strut  before  the  people.     The  artist  was  losing  touch 
with  the  people,  clambering  out  of  the  church,  and  glorify- 
ing the  sumptuous  homes  of  the  greatly  rich. 

The  United  Italy  of  which  Dante  dreamed,  under  an 
Italian  Emperor  at  Rome,  was  not  to  be.  The  people  were 
never  united — never  aimed  at  union.  And  their  several 
arts  were  as  far  apart  as  though  they  had  been  alien  nations. 
The  art  of  Florence  is  the  mirror  of  the  age.  Cosimo  de* 
Medici  was  its  great  patron.  The  merchant  princes  were 
its  nurses.  They  were  the  puppets  of  their  age.  The 
Medici  encouraged  the  sensual  and  worldly  tastes  of  the 
people,  lured  them  away  from  sacred  to  profane  subjects, 
impelled  by  the  desire  to  lull  them  into  love  of  splendour 
and  glory  of  their  chiefs  rather  than  to  brood  on  stern 
republicanism.  It  was  their  deliberate  and  calculated  policy 
to  enslave  Florence.  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  flaunted  his 
magnificence,  deliberately  enfeebling  the  people  by  luxury, 
enjoying  voluptuous  living  himself,  finding  wide  popularity 
therein,  and  seeing  that,  beside  its  glamour,  stern  re- 
publicanism looked  grey  to  the  people.  The  artists  were 
not  backward  in  suiting  their  art  to  the  questionable  taste 
of  their  patrons.  It  is  true  that  Botticelli  became  in  the  end 
a  "  pious  one,"  but  "  in  many  houses  he  painted  roundels 
with  his  own  hand,  and  of  naked  women  plenty."  It  was 
against  the  decay  of  the  public  spirit  by  paganism,  and  the 
loss  of  republicanism  in  Florence,  that  Savonarola  fought 

119 


THE  GOLD- 
SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


PAINTING 

the  tyrants  in  his  own  church,  defied  the  very  Pope,  scorned 
the  princes  of  Florence,  attacked  works  of  art,  and  died  at 
the  stake  for  it.  The  "  prophet  of  S.  Marco  "  may  have 
seen  with  narrow  eyes  when  he  misjudged  the  real 
significance  of  Art  and  of  the  Renaissance ;  but  he  made 
no  mistake  when  he  attacked  the  debasing  influences  of 
the  Renaissance,  even  whilst  he  missed  its  mighty  impulses 
— for  the  Medici  approved  the  debasing  influences,  and 
came  to  tyranny  thereby. 


120 


XV 

PIERO   DI  COSIMO 
1462  -  1521 

FLORENTINE  SCHOOL 
"THE  DEATH  OF  PROCRIS" 

(National  Gallery) 
Ccphalus  kneels  at  the  head  of  Procris,  whom  he  has  accidentally  shot. 
Painted  in  tempera  on  poplar,    z  ft.  ij  in.  h.  x  6  ft.  vv.  (0647  x  1-828). 


*s 


CHAPTER    XV 

OF  THE  DEEPS  OF  POETRY  THAT  MAY  BE  WITHIN 
THE  ROUGH  OUTER  MAN 

Working  at  the  same  time  in  Florence  as  Verrocchio  was  OF  THE 
a   painter,  Cosimo    Rosselli,  now  chiefly  known  to  fame  I^EEPS  OF 
as   the    master    of  the    artists,    Piero   di    Cosimo   and   Fra  POETRY 
Bartolommeo.     But  Cosimo  RosselH  was  an  artist  of  fine   ^^^^   m/\i 
gifts,  who  was  employed  under  Botticelli  on  work  for  the         tt^T7 
Sistine  Chapel,  in  which  he  painted  several  frescoes.    Cosimo  ROTirH 
Rosselli  ( 1 439-1 507)  came  of  artist  forefathers.  OUTER 


PIERO   DI    COSIMO 

1462  -  1521 

Of  about  the  same  age  as  Filippino  Lippi,  Lorenzo  di 
Credi,  and  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  was  Piero  di  Cosimo,  whose 
picturesque  and  tuneful  name  was  a  tribute  to  his  master, 
Cosimo  Rosselli.  Piero  di  Cosimo  was  the  son  of  Lorenzo, 
an  auger-maker  of  Florence  ;  at  twenty  (1482)  he  went  with 
his  master,  Cosimo  Rosselli,  to  aid  him  in  his  work  on  the 
frescoes  of  the  Sistine  Chapel.  But  though  the  direct  pupil 
of  Cosimo  Rosselli,  he  became  an  eager  student  of  the  art  of 
Antonio  Pollaiuolo,  to  whom  he  owed  his  knowledge  of  the 
nude,  and  was  strongly  affected  by  the  work  of  Luca  Signo- 
relli,  of  Filippino  Lippi,  and  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  which  was 
being  wrought  about  him,  and  he  owes  tribute  to  Botticelli. 
His  paintings,  being  scattered  throughout  the  great  public 
galleries  of  Europe  and  the  great  private  collections — more 
particularly  in  England — are  widely  known.  His  fine  Venus^ 
VOL.  I — Q  121 


MAN 


A   HISTORY 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


THE  GOLD-  Mars^  and  Cupid  at  Berlin  proves  that  his  eyes  had  beheld 
Botticelli's  masterpiece  now  in  London,  and  his  equally 
celebrated  portrait  of  La  Bella  Simonetta  at  Chantilly  reveals 
that  not  only  had  his  eyes  lingered  upon  Botticelli's  crafts- 
manship, but  that  the  beauty  of  the  golden  age  of  Florence 
and  her  queen  of  love  had  sat  to  him — this  portrait  used  to 
be  known  as  Cleopatra,  and  bore  the  credit  of  PoUaiuolo's 
name. 

Piero  di  Cosimo  was  one  of  the  famous  jury  appointed 
to  decide  on  the  site  for  Michelangelo's  statue  of  David  in 
Florence,  and  he  pays  tribute  to  the  fact  by  painting  the 
much-talked-of  statue  into  the  background  of  his  Portrait 
of  a  Warrior  in  London. 

Contemporary  of  Lorenzo  di  Credi,  but  of  what  different 
stuff,  was  Piero  di  Cosimo.  For  him  was  no  smug  painting 
of  formal  devotions ;  for  him  no  mere  imitations,  no  mimi- 
cries. His  art  utters  the  spirit  of  the  age  in  consummate 
fashion.  All  the  glamour  of  the  new  learning  is  there ; 
the  gods  of  antique  days  have  come  out  of  hiding  and  frisk 
abroad.  Piero  di  Cosimo  was  a  very  Florentine  of  Floren- 
tines, the  republican  blood  in  him,  a  live  individual, 
frank  of  tongue,  witty,  arrogant,  whimsical,  odd,  his  quaint 
soul  sensitive  to  the  subtlest  delicacies  of  colour,  grim  of 
character,  exquisitely  sympathetic  to  sorrow  and  pain.  No 
more  perfect  example  of  his  skill  of  artistry  has  come  down 
to  us  than  the  glowing  harmonies  of  his  Death  of  Procris  at 
the  National  Gallery  in  London.  Here  we  have  very 
Florence  of  the  late  fourteen-hundreds.  Here  are  the 
pagan  gods  stepping  out  of  their  long  hiding  in  the  shady 
groves,  and  careering  abroad  in  Italian  landscape.  Within 
the  space  of  the  long  narrow  span  of  the  painted  surface, 
Piero  di  Cosimo  has  uttered  his  poem  of  love  and  jealousy, 
of  death   and   remorse,   in   lyric   fashion.     The   whispered 

122 


XVI 

FRA   BARTOLOMMEO 
1475  -  1517 

(Louvre) 
"VIRGIN  AND  CHILD,  WITH  SAINTS" 


OF   PAINTING 

slander  that  has  sent  the  jealous  Procris  into  her  hiding-  OF   THE 
place  in  the  thicket  to  watch  her  lover's  meeting  with  an  DEEPS   OF 
Unknown  One,  has  also  sent  her  to  her  death,  when,  leaping  POETRY 
from  hiding  to  confess  her  false  suspicion,  she  is  slain  by   ^^^^    '^^- 
the  arrow  of  her  lover  as  he  quickly  lets  fly,  startled  by  the  .^   trf 
rustle  of  what  he  took  to  be  a  wild  beast  in  the  bush ;  and  rqUGH 
as  the  life  flows  scarlet  from  her  wounded  throat,  she  tells  OUTER 
her  tale — and  unseen  Jupiter,  bending  his  ear  to  hear  the  MAN 
piteous  tragedy,  did  well  to  change  her  into  a  star.     'Tis  a 
literary  theme,  it 's  true  enough,  and  the  pictured  sonnet 
needs  a  book  of  the  words  to  explain  it — therein  the  art  is 
faulty   enough,   as   indeed    was    much    of   the    art    of   the 
Florentines — but,  apart  from  this,  what  an  exquisite  thing 
it   is  !    the   pity   of  it,   shown   in   the   bereaved   satyr   and 
mourning    dog,    the    wondrous    landscape    bathed    in    the 
glamour  of  that  strange  unheeding  Nature  which  hesitates 
or  halts  a  moment  never,  even  to  shed  a  tear,  though  death 
strike  out  of  the  blue  at  one  of  her  myriad  children.     The 
sun  shines  on,  the  storks  hie  them  across  the  heavens  to 
their    own   wayfaring,   all    Nature   heedless   of  the   pitiful 
tragedy.      How    wondrous   well   the    grim   vision    of  this 
Piero  di  Cosimo  has  caught  the  cruelty  and  the  pity  of  it  ! 
and  with  what  exquisite  poetry  his  hand  has  uttered  what 
he  has  felt  ! 

Here  is  the  eternal  question  that  is  stirring  the  hearts 
of  thinking  men  in  this  Florence  of  the  end  of  the  fourteen- 
hundreds — that  question  writ  across  the  art  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci  in  such  masterly  fashion.  They  were  at  grips  with  life, 
these  men.     And  Piero  di  Cosimo  not  the  least  of  them. 

A  solitary  man,  careless  of  the  world's  opinion  of  him, 
he  had  little  but  contempt  for  the  things  that  men  call  the 
prizes  of  life.  He  was  concerned  only  with  uttering  life  as 
he  saw  and  felt  it.     Shutting  himself  up  to  brood  over  his 

123 


THE  GOLD- 
SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


A   HISTORY 

own  ideas,  and  detesting  to  let  others  see  him  at  his  work, 
the  world  judged  him  eccentric.  Sensitive  and  irritable, 
with  nerves  that  jarred  at  the  crying  of  babes  or  coughing 
of  men  that  passed  by  ;  fretted  to  madness  by  flies  ;  and 
loathing  the  dark  ;  when  the  humdrum  folk  saw  him  go  by 
in  the  street  they  tapped  their  skulls  significantly.  But 
Piero  di  Cosimo  lived  in  a  world  of  dreams.  People  winked 
and  nodded  at  each  other,  jerking  the  thumb  of  disdain  at 
the  untended,  unpruned  fruit-trees  in  his  garden.  A  virile, 
odd  fellow,  full  of  arrogance  and  self-will,  careless  of 
comfort — his  meals  were  of  the  hard-boiled  eggs  which  he 
could  cook  as  he  boiled  his  glue,  thereby  saving  fuel,  and 
needed  little  elaborate  dishing.  He  had  the  tricks  and 
habits  of  the  absent-minded — they  said  he  talked  overmuch, 
repeated  the  things  he  said  to  weariness ;  but  they  would 
laugh  themselves  to  tears  at  times,  for  his  thinking  was 
wide  and  various,  and  in  a  good  vein  he  was  splendid 
company — a  waggish  soul,  dry  with  the  Florentine  grim 
humour.  But  the  doctors  had  no  love  for  him ;  nor  he  for 
the  doctors — he  scoffed  at  physician  or  apothecary,  and 
would  have  none  of  their  nostrums,  whereby  he  suffered  no 
little,  for,  in  his  last  years  he  fretted  and  fumed  at  the 
maiming  paralysis  that  numbed  his  hands  as  he  doddered 
about  his  studio,  cursing  the  ill-luck  that  thwarted  his 
hand's  skill  from  giving  utterance  to  the  will  of  his  brain,  and 
reviling  the  plague  that  had  fallen  upon  him,  which  would 
not  even  let  him  scratch  his  own  irritating  hands.  But  the 
grimness  of  the  man  never  knew  paralysis  ;  at  the  last  he 
would  scoff  at  the  idea  of  degradation  in  capital  punishment, 
praising  it  instead  as  "  a  fine  thing  to  go  to  death  in  the 
open  air  amidst  a  throng  of  people."  His  dramatic  vision 
rose  supreme,  even  as  he  gazed  at  the  end  of  things. 

Poetic,  of  infinite  invention  and  exquisite  imagination, 
124 


OF   PAINTING 


sensitive  and  quick  to  all  the  moods  of  life,  he  saw  visions  OF   THE 
in  the  clouds  and  evolved  poems  out  of  the  stained  surfaces  DEEPS   O? 
of  walls.     With  a  fine  contempt  for  wordy  philosophies,  POETRY 

Tr*T  T  A  T"*      7V/T  A  \' 

he  concerned  himself  solely  with  life ;   and  though  all  he  \x7txw 

wrought,   whether   portrait   or  religious   picture   or   pagan  ,^   twf 
mythology,  was  done  with  consummate  skill,  it  was  with  rqUGH 
the   pagan   gods  in  their  wild  sport  and  tragedies   amidst  OUTER 
the  woods  and  meadows  and  by  the  seashore  that  he  found  MAN 
his  chief  delight. 

He  was  fond  of  the  long,  wide  panel  of  little  height. 
The  Battle  of  the  Centaurs  a?jd  the  Lapithae  shows  him  in 
his  love  of  wild  creatures,  whether  real  or  imaginary — 
proves,  as  does  all  his  art,  his  passion  for  the  wildness  of 
Nature,  Nature  unspoiled  by  man's  ordering,  that  Nature 
which,  as  he  affirmed,  "  ought  not  to  be  interfered  with." 

Piero  di  Cosimo  died  in  1521,  at  Florence. 

Of  his  pupils,  one  was  to  come  to  great  fame,  for  there 
came  from  his  training  the  genius  of  a  tailor's  son,  whom 
the  world  knows  as  Andrea  del  Sarto. 


125 


CHAPTER    XVI 

OF  THE  GENTLE  SOUL   OF  HIM  WHO  CREATED  THE 

LAY  FIGURE 

THE  GOLD-  We  have  seen  a  well-nigh  forgotten  painter  of  Florence  in 
SMITH-  Verrocchio's  day,  one  Cosimo  Rosselli,  training  a  student  to 

PAINTERS      create  superb  art  as  Piero  di  Cosimo.    This  Cosimo  Rosselli 
^^  must  have  had  a  rich  sense  of  colour,  since  not  only  did 

Piero  di  Cosimo  bring  into  Florentine  art  a  v^ondrous  rich 
and  glow^ing  colour,  markedly  golden  as  against  the  silvery 
tradition  of  Florentine  painting  ;  but  there  also  came  from 
Cosimo  Rosselli's  studio — or,  as  some  hold,  from  his  pupil 
Piero  di  Cosimo's  studio — a  boy  of  nine,  son  of  a  muleteer  of 
Suffignano,  settled  in  Florence,  a  gentle,  timid,  yielding  boy, 
who  was  gravely  industrious.  He  starts  with  grinding  the 
colours,  sweeping  the  shop,  running  errands — becomes  the 
bosom  friend  of  another  lad,  one  Mariotto  Albertinelli,  who 
is  far  from  industrious  or  timid  or  shy — but  our  industrious 
apprentice  is  destined  to  bring  a  Venetian  warmth  of 
colouring  to  the  Florentine  achievement  of  the  fifteen- 
hundreds,  his  name  Baccio  della  Porta,  to  become  more 
famous  as  Fra  Bartolommeo. 


FRA   BARTOLOMMEO 

1475  -  1517 

Some  thirteen  years  younger  than  Piero  di  Cosimo,  but 

dying  before   him,  was   Era   Bartolommeo.     There  is  a 

tendency  in  present-day  criticism,  which  is  concerning  itself 

far  too  much  with  the  superficialities  of  technique,  and  the 

126 


PAINTING 


antique-dealer's  attitude  towards  works  of  art,  which  indeed  OF  THE 
is  taken  to  be  the  essential  significance  of  art,  rather  than  GENTLE 
with  the  inner  significance  of  art,  to  underrate  the  work  of  SOUL  OF 
Fra  Bartolommeo.  He  cannot  be  dismissed  as  a  mere  pom-  ^^'^  WHO 
pous  painter  of  monumental  altar-pieces.  Bartolommeo  was  ,, 
not  a  poet,  say,  like  Piero  di  Cosimo  ;  his  lack  of  grip  on  FjpTiRp 
character  hampered  his  achievement ;  and  the  very  source 
of  his  strength,  a  sense  of  dignified  composition,  largely 
trended  to  harden  his  grouping  into  a  somewhat  heavy 
formula.  But  he  was  a  forerunner  of  no  mean  order.  He 
brought  to  painting  a  sense  of  sculpture  and  a  grip  of 
modelling  which  are  attune  to  the  artistry  of  Michelangelo, 
who  was  born  in  the  same  year.  But  he  revealed  qualities 
that  had  far  greater  influence  upon  the  Florentine  art  of  the 
fifteen-hundreds.  The  art  of  painting  amongst  the  great 
Florentines  of  the  fourteen-hundreds — developing  through 
Botticelli,  Ghirlandaio,  Filippino  Lippi  —  had  thrust  its 
innate  domain  of  colour  forward  to  increase  of  emotional 
utterance  by  mellowing  the  crude  qualities  of  the  Byzantine 
illuminators  into  harmonies  expressed  in  tones,  so  that,  as 
with  the  more  tragic  exponents  of  Florentine  art,  the 
illusion  of  depth  in  the  picture  had  been  aimed  at,  giving 
the  sense  of  the  roundness  of  objects,  as  though  they  stood 
in  atmosphere.  The  Florentines  had  reached  towards  this 
by  keen  study  of  the  relations  of  light  and  shade — called  by 
artists  chiaroscuro — tentatively  it  is  true,  until  Leonardo  da 
Vinci  came  and  compelled  the  painted  surface  to  yield  the 
mysteries  of  atmosphere  by  a  power  of  representing  by  light 
and  shade  an  almost  living  quality  as  though  ;:he  breath 
stirred  within  the  figures,  bathed  in  their  volume  of 
atmosphere.  But  Leonardo  compelled  chiaroscuro  to  the 
supreme  place  in  rendering  the  pictured  thing  ;  he  made 
colour  subordinate  to  light  and  shade  ;  and  aimed  at  melting 

127 


A   HISTORY 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


THE  GOLD-  colour  into  this  light  and  shade  rather  than  stating  colour 
in  its  values  as  colour.  He  did  not  realise  the  modern 
vision  of  the  aerial  perspective  of  colour  as  colour,  v^hat 
one  may  call  the  musical  utterance  of  colour  against  colour 
that  creates  colour  in  distance  of  its  depth. 

The  first  of  the  Florentines  to  attempt  the  use  of 
brilliant  colour  in  the  rich  harmonies  v^hich  are  the  very 
essence  of  Venetian  painting,  was  Bartolommeo.  He  did 
not  achieve  to  greatness  therein  ;  but  at  least  he  essayed  it. 
He  struck  the  new  note  of  the  fifteen-hundreds  in  the 
Florentine  accomplishment. 

I  have  said  that  Bartolommeo  had  a  marked  instinct  for 
the  large  and  rhythmic  composition,  but  it  was  an  instinct 
heavily  qualified  and  weighted  by  scientific  theories  of 
balance  ;  and  science  is  ever  a  hampering  burden  on  the 
back  of  instinct  in  art.  It  ran  to  pyramidalisms  and  the 
like  pomposities.  And  it  created  that  elaborate  scheme  of 
laws,  and  invented  that  style,  which  were  afterwards  to  have 
so  strong  an  influence  on  a  youth  called  Raphael,  as  indeed 
also  were  his  gaiety  of  colouring  and  his  rich  and  golden 
harmonies. 

Bartolommeo  also  invented  the  lay  figure  ;  and  it  is  exactly 
in  a  certain  effect  as  of  lay  figures  in  his  art,  of  a  scientific 
spirit  rather  than  an  instinct  and  emotion  dictating  his 
arrangements  and  the  actions  of  his  figures  in  those  arrange- 
ments, that  Bartolommeo  fell  short  of  greatness.  Of  a 
nature  pliant  and  sensitive,  he  was  influenced  by  Leonardo 
da  Vinci,  then  by  Raphael,  who  was  subject  to  him,  then, 
at  the  end,  making  the  final  effort  and  failure  in  attempting 
to  catch  the  majesty  and  force  of  Michelangelo  which 
were  wholly  alien  to  the  charm  of  his  gracious  art.  To 
build  sublimity  on  gentle  grace  were  to  break  both. 

Bartolommeo  was  a  passionate  disciple  of  Savonarola, 
128 


OF   PAINTING 

of  whom  he  painted  two  well-known  portraits.     It  was  on  OF  THE 
hearing   the   Dominican   thunders   against  worldliness   and  GENTLE 
immorality  that  Bartolommeo  gathered  together  his  studies  SOUL   OF 
from  the   nude   and   burnt   them   upon   the   public   "pyre  ^^^  WHO 
of  vanities."     A  monk  he  was  to  become,  but,  strangely  ^Trp    r  ,  y 
enough,  neither  he  nor  that  other  pure  and  gentle  follower  jrjGURE 
of  Savonarola,  Lorenzo  di  Credi,  had  the  fire  in  his  art  to 
utter  the  rage  of  Savonarola. 

Bartolommeo  was  deeply  humiliated  by  the  failure  of 
the  monk  and  his  public  execution  by  burning  and  hanging. 
On  the  fall  of  Savonarola,  Bartolommeo  retired  from  the 
world,  entering  the  Dominican  Order,  and  withdrawing  into 
the  convent  of  S.  Marco. 

His  masterpieces  are  the  Raphaelesque  Madonna,  with 
Saints  and  Angels^  in  the  cathedral  of  Lucca,  and  the  Virgin 
appearing  to  St.  Bernard  in  the  Academy  at  Florence.  Bar- 
tolommeo's  art  is  a  development  far  beyond  the  art  of  the 
fourteen-hundreds — he  is  the  connecting  link  between  it 
and  the  coming  Golden  Age. 

Mariotto  Albertinelli  (1474-15 1 5),  the  friend  and 
fellow-worker  of  Bartolommeo,  has  largely  lost  his  in- 
dividuality, swamped  in  the  art  of  Bartolommeo,  perhaps 
in  that  he  it  was  who  carried  out  the  pictures  left  incom- 
plete when  the  friar  retired  from  the  world.  It  is  certain 
that  many  of  Albertinelli's  paintings  are  set  down  to 
Bartolommeo ;  but  that  he  was  an  artist  of  power  is  proved 
by  his  serene  and  masterly  Visitation  at  the  Uffizi,  marked 
by  rare  nobility  and  dignity. 

The  friendship  of  these  two  opposite  souls,  in  boyhood 
and  manhood,  is  one  of  the  charming  pictures  of  the 
Renaissance,  little  given  to  fidelities.  The  sweet  and  gentle 
spirit  of  Bartolommeo  shines  serenely  through  it  all.  Bar- 
tolommeo early  became  a  disciple  of  Savonarola,  and  a 
VOL.  I — R  129 


PAINTING 


THE  GOLD-  piagnone  ;  Mariotto  Albertinelli,  wilful  and  noisy,  was,  for 
the  Medici  party,  a  loose  liver,  an  uproarious  partisan.  He 
ended  by  leaving  art  and  becoming  an  innkeeper.  Yet  the 
two  ever  remained  firm  friends.  Contrast  the  gentle  and 
timid  soul  of  Bartolommeo,  whose  weapon  drops  from  his 
hand  at  sound  of  the  first  onrush  of  the  besiegers  upon  the 
convent  of  S.  Marco,  vowing  to  become  a  monk  if  heaven 
should  spare  him  I  with  the  rollicking,  swashbuckling  tap- 
ster Albertinelli. 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


130 


CHAPTER    XVII 

OF  A  DANDIFIED  STIGGINS  OF  VAST  HAND'S  SKILL 

We  must  go  back  for  a  moment  to  Piero  della  Francesca,  OF  A 

or  Dei  Franceschi,  whom  we  saw  as  pupil  to  Domenico  DANDIFIED 

Veneziano  and  under  the  influence  of  Uccello,  and  with  a  STIGGINS 

keen  scientific  eagerness  for  perspective  and  desire  to  create      ^   VAST 

•  HAND'S 

depth  in  painting,  writmg  a  Treatise  on  Perspective.     Piero 

del  Franceschi  is  often  classed  amongst  the  Umbrians,  but 

Umbrian  he  was  not  by  birth  or  temperament. 

Franceschi's  teaching  brought  forth  two  pupils  who  were 
to  reach  to  mastery — Melozzo  da  Forli  and  Luca  Signorelli. 

Of  the  life  of  Melozzo  da  Forli  (143 8- 1494)  little  is 
known.  Born  at  Forli  in  the  Romagna,  he  worked  at 
Rome  about  1472  for  Cardinal  Riario,  nephew  to  Pope 
Sixtus  IV.,  and  for  him  painted  frescoes  in  the  church  of 
the  SS.  Apostoli,  of  which  some  fragments  remain,  now 
in  the  sacristy  of  St.  Peter's  and  on  the  staircase  of  the 
Quirinal ;  but  all  such  works  of  his  as  are  known  show  his 
mastery  of  movement  and  depth  of  space  learnt  from 
Franceschi,  and  his  own  personal  intensity  of  emotional 
statement.  Melozzo  was  made  one  of  the  original  mem- 
bers of  the  Academy  of  St.  Luke  in  Rome,  when  founded 
by  Pope  Sixtus  iv. 

Of  Melozzo  da  Forli's  pupils  was  Giovanni  Santi 
(1435  P-I494),  to  become  the  father  of  the  greater  Santi, 
the  renowned  Raphael  ;  and  the  prolific  painter  Marco 
Palmezzano  (1456  ?-i 543),  the  last  of  the  short-lived 
Romagnoli  school. 

131 


THE  GOLD- 
SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


A   HISTORY 

Franceschi's  second  and  greatest  pupil,  Luca  Signorelli, 
was  to  come  to  wide  distinction,  and  was  to  have  as  wide 
influence. 

LUCA   SIGNORELLI 
1441  -  1523 

Luca  d'Egidio  di  Ventura,  to  be  better  known  to  fame 
as  Luca  Signorelli,  born  at  Cortona,  was  apprenticed  to 
Piero  dei  Franceschi  at  Arezzo  ;  he  became  strongly  im- 
pressed by  the  art  of  the  brothers  Pollaiuoli.  Luca  Signo- 
relli is — on  the  tense  and  dramatic  side  of  the  Florentine 
achievement,  as  is  Botticelli  on  the  spiritual  side — intensely 
moved  by  the  Greek  spirit  that  was  overwhelming  the 
Florentine  genius — is  indeed,  perhaps,  more  really  "  the 
reanimate  Greek" — for  his  aim  is  even  more  the  Greek 
aim  of  pure  beauty  than  is  Botticelli's  ;  but  he  adds  to 
it  the  high  Florentine  dramatic  sense,  caught  from  his 
Florentine  masters. 

Cortona  is  but  just  without  the  southern  boundary  of 
Tuscany,  on  the  road  to  Rome;  and  along  that  road  to 
Rome  the  Florentine  genius  was  about  to  travel  in  ever- 
increasing  stream,  even  while  Signorelli  lived,  and  in  the 
doing  was  to  come  to  a  sudden  ultimate  glory,  reaching  to 
majestic  heights  of  achievement,  thereafter  to  wither  like 
a  garden  smitten  by  the  blasting  breath  of  the  desert. 

Signorelli  was  to  become  a  master  of  the  nude.  His 
astounding  skill  in  painting  the  figure  and  of  expressing 
movement  in  the  nude,  from  the  natural  swing  of  the  body 
to  its  most  violent  actions,  his  wonderful  sense  of  the  glow 
of  flesh,  and  his  fascinating  sense  of  rhythm  in  composition, 
make  him  one  of  the  great  masters  of  the  Florentine 
Renaissance. 

Of  Signorelli's  earlier  work  is  the  superb  Pan  at  Berlin, 
a  masterpiece  marked  by  spaciousness,  and  a  severity  almost 
132 


OF   PAINTING 


as  of  sculpture.     Here  we  see  the  type  of  woman  he  created  OF   A 

— with   powerful    chin,    full    forehead,    and    stern    mouth.  DANDIFIED 

Signorelli  has  the  dramatic  power  and  tragic  sadness  of  the  STIGGINS 

Florentine  genius  in  great  abundance,  a  fierceness  of  energy,  ^^ 

through  which  runs  a  strange  tenderness  ;  he  has,  besides,  „        7^ 

a  feeling  for  pure  beauty  and  grace  more  than  Florentine. 

In  his  frescoes  at  Orvieto,  wrought  between  1499  and  1502, 

he  seems  to  have  set  himself  the  task  of  painting  the  human 

body  in  every  conceivable  position,  as  though  the  problem 

of  movement  were  his  whole  aim — a  Dantesque  desire  to 

state  the  most  violent  emotions,  they  are  rated  as  being  of 

his  supreme  achievement ;  the  fresco  of  the  En  J  of  the  World 

produced  a  profound  effect  on  the  art  of  Michelangelo,  in 

whose  fresco  of  The  Last  yudgment^  at  the  Sistine  Chapel  in 

Rome,  the  influence  of  Signorelli  is  most  marked. 

Vasari's  statement  that  Signorelli  himself  painted  two 
frescoes  from  the  History  of  Moses  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  at 
Rome  has  been  challenged  by  modern  criticism,  which 
attributes  them  to  Pinturicchio — though  Vasari,  for  all  his 
rambling  gossip,  is  often  wonderfully  correct.  There  is  no 
challenge  as  to  Signorelli  having  painted  the  frescoes  in  the 
Santa  Casa  of  Loreto  and  the  cloisters  of  Monte  Oliveto 
Maggiore  o^  Scenes  from  the  Life  of  St.  Benedict. 

Luca  Signorelli  came  to  high  honour  in  his  native  city 
of  Cortona,  where  he  was  made  a  Member  of  the  Council 
of  Eighteen,  and  held  other  high  offices  as  Prior,  Member 
of  the  General  Council,  Prior  of  the  Fraternity  of  St.  Mark, 
and  Syndic.  His  later  years  were  lived  amidst  great  afflu- 
ence and  splendour.  His  mortal  remains  were  laid  to  rest 
in  Cortona,  where  he  died,  in  1523,  in  his  eighty-second 
year. 

Signorelli's  mother  was  sister  to  Lazzaro,  great-grand- 
father of  Giorgio  Vasari,  the  famous  chronicler  of  the  lives 


PAINTING 


THE  GOLD-  of  the  Italian  artists.     He   seems   to   have   been  a  sincere 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


friend,  fond  of  society,  and  socially  ambitious — not  above 
an  hypocrisy,  ever  ready  to  turn  aside  enmity  vv^ith  a  pretty, 
sometimes  a  Stiggins-like  compliment.  A  dandy  in  his 
habits,  dressing  handsomely,  he  lived  in  splendour,  and  his 
own  city  and  the  world  at  large  consequently  honoured 
him. 

An  iron  will  and  profound  sensing  were  the  abundant 
gifts  of  Luca  Signorelli.  His  effect  on  the  Florentine 
achievement  was  prodigious.  His  significance  in  art  is  the 
daring  and  boldness  with  which  he  thrust  forward  the 
range  of  utterance  of  the  instrument  of  painting  to  express 
sublime  and  tragic  intensity.  He  largely  forestalled  Michel- 
angelo, not  only  in  his  expression  of  the  nude,  but  in  his 
resolute  and  forceful  desire  to  give  utterance  to  the  sublime 
emotions  and  the  tragic  passions  in  terms  of  pure  form, 
reckless  of  the  suave  qualities  of  colour.  To  this  grip  upon 
the  human  figure  he  bent  all  his  powers — from  the  grave- 
yard and  the  gibbet  he  took  subjects  for  dissection ;  and 
his  art  was  as  marked  for  its  audacity  in  seeking  into  the 
emotions  as  was  his  will  in  getting  subjects  for  his  training. 
His  firm  and  true  line  never  deserts  him.  In  an  age  of 
pedantry  and  ornamentation  he  sternly  set  his  great  powers 
to  the  utterance  of  mighty  tragedies,  playing  upon  the 
forms  of  the  human  body  to  render  the  significance  of 
life. 

His  son,  a  youth  of  great  personal  beauty,  whom  he 
greatly  loved,  being  killed  in  a  duel  at  Cortona,  was 
brought  to  the  grief-stricken  father.  Signorelli  uttered  no 
word  of  woe  or  complaint.  Without  a  tear  he  ordered 
them  to  strip  the  seventeen-years-old  lad  naked,  and,  where 
he  lay,  he  painted  him,  so  that  he  might  have  with  him 
always  the  beauty  of  his  beloved  son. 

134 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

OF  A  GENTLE  SOUL  INCAPABLE  OF  TRAGEDY 

There  were  working  together  in  Verrocchio's  workshop  in  OF   A 
Florence  three  youths  who  were  destined  to  become  famous  GENTLE 
as  painters — Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Perugino,  and  Lorenzo  di  SOUL 
Credi.      Of  these  the  least  entitled  to  a  great   name   was  INCAPABLE 
Lorenzo  di  Credi. 


TRAGEDY 


LORENZO  DI  CREDI 

1459  -  1537 

Lorenzo  di  Credi,  however,  must  not  be  judged  by  his 
paintings,  which  have  brought  him  far  higher  repute  than 
they  ought,  for  it  is  almost  certain  that  he  must  have 
achieved  something  approaching  the  masterpiece  in  sculp- 
ture, since  a  sculptor  of  Verrocchio's  genius  was  little  likely 
otherwise  to  leave  instructions  in  his  will  that  Lorenzo 
di  Credi  was  to  be  entrusted  with  the  finishing  of  his 
superb  equestrian  monument  of  Colleoni  at  Venice.  Un- 
fortunately no  sculpture  by  Lorenzo  di  Credi  has  come 
down  to  us  whereby  to  judge  him.  But  that,  even  as 
a  sculptor,  Verrocchio  estimated  his  gifts  too  highly  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  the  completion  of  the  Colleoni 
statue  was  given  to  Leopardi,  Lorenzo  being  adjudged 
incompetent  to  carry  it  through. 

Careful,  painstaking,  and  gifted  with  a  sense  of  graceful- 
ness, Lorenzo  di  Credi's  paintings  are  little  more  than  an 
echo  of  the  religious  picture  which  was  becoming  a  set 
formality  of  the  studios.     One  looks  in  vain  for  that  forceful 

^35 


PAINTING 


SMITH- 
PAINTERS 
OF 
FLORENCE 


THE  GOLD-  personal  note  that  marks  the  compelHng  achievement  of 
the  Florence  of  these  years.  Lorenzo  di  Credi  neithei 
revealed  a  personal  vision  nor  won  to  great  accomplishment 
in  craftsmanship — his  feeling  for  form  and  his  powers  in 
uttering  colour  were  neither  remarkable  nor  vigorous  nor 
subtle.  About  the  year  1470  the  Flemish  (Zeelander) 
painter,  Hugo  van  der  Goes,  painted  at  Bruges  for  Tommaso 
Portinari,  the  agent  of  the  Medici,  a  huge  Nativity  which 
Portinari  presented  to  the  hospital  at  Florence.  This 
Flemish  work  had  a  very  large  effect  upon  the  art  of 
Florence  ;  Ghirlandaio,  Lorenzo  di  Credi,  and  others 
copied  or  adapted  many  of  its  details.  But  Lorenzo  di 
Credi's  imitative  nature  could  do  little  more  than  imitate. 

Di  Credi  assisted  his  master  Verrocchio  in  the  painting 
of  the  large  The  Madonna  with  Two  Saints  which  stands  in 
Pistoia  Cathedral.  He  is  seen  at  his  best  in  his  Annunciation 
and  his  Adoration  of  Christ  in  the  Uffizi,  and  in  the  Nativity 
and  Adoration  in  the  Academy  at  Florence.  His  was,  like 
Fra  Bartolommeo's,  a  gentle  soul,  deeply  impressed  by 
Savonarola's  fiery  preaching,  but  unable  by  force  or  vision 
to  give  utterance  to  the  violences  of  life,  its  vigours,  or  its 
tragedies. 

Giovanni  Antonio  Sogliani  (1492-1544)  was  a  pupil 
and  imitator  of  Lorenzo  di  Credi. 


136 


THE    GOLDEN    AGE 


VOL.    I- 


^Z7 


5 


o       o 


CHAPTER    XIX 

WHEREIN  WE  MEET  THE  GIANT  OF  THE  SPRINGTIME 
OF  THE  RENAISSANCE 

Now  dawns  the  Golden  Age  of  the  Renaissance — so  men  WHEREIN 

label  the  years.     The  striving  of  the  Florentine  genius  to  WE  MEET 

utter  itself  in  painting  has  brought  forth  command  of  the  THE  GIANT 

hand  over  the  tools  of  painting  that  enables  the  hand  to  do  "^ 

•  •        •  SPRINC 

what  the  eye  wills.     The  Florentines  bent  their  will  to  the  rpx,^,-,   ^^ 

mastery  of  form,  above  all  the  human  shape.     They  are  ^Trp   op 
mastering  depths  by  perspective  of  line,  and  by  the  aerial  naISSANCE 
perspective,  employing  light  and  shadow  to  give  the  distance 
of  objects   bathed   in   their  varying   deeps   of  atmosphere. 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  comes  and  completes  that  conquest. 

It  is  the  habit  of  the  writers  to  speak  of  the  giants  of 
the  Golden  Age  as  being  Leonardo  da  Vinci  the  Magician 
of  the  Age,  Raphael  the  Melodist,  Correggio  the  Fawn, 
and  Michelangelo  the  Prophet.  The  tags  fit  well  enough. 
But  Leonardo  da  Vinci  is  rather  the  culmination  and 
supreme  genius  of  the  great  middle  achievement  of  the 
Renaissance,  its  splendid  blossom.  However,  'tis  all  some- 
what a  vain  affair  and  futile — this  docketing  into  classes. 
The  significance  of  Leonardo  lies  in  this,  that  in  him  we 
are  to  see  one  who  by  his  vigorous  will,  his  abounding 
strength,  and  the  keen  inquisitiveness  of  his  age,  made  his 
hand  facile  to  state  the  human  form,  to  yield  its  sense  of 

139 


A   HISTORY 


THE  movement,   to   place    it    in    the   deeps   of  its   surrounding 

GOLDEN         atmosphere,  and  to  envelope  it  in  that  mysterious  sense  of 
"^^■^  life  that  is  poetry,  so  that,  even  as  we  gaze  upon  his  work 

it  seems  to  give  forth  life.  For,  mark  this  well,  the  whole 
effort  of  Florence  has  been  to  create  reality — to  compel  the 
sense  of  vision  to  utter  itself  in  such  consummate  fashion 
that  its  works  of  art  shall  arouse,  as  fully  and  completely  as 
skill  can  do  it,  the  emotion  of  life  in  all  who  behold  the 
pictured  surface.  The  achievement  of  his  hand,  like  the 
achievement  of  all  Florence,  is  to  be  akin  to  the  vision  of 
the  sculptor  rather  than  of  the  painter — for  the  essential 
significance  of  the  painter  is  colour  ;  and  Florence  failed  in 
colour — failed,  that  is  to  say,  to  make  the  hand's  skill  facile 
to  utter  the  thing  seen  in  the  resonant  terms  of  rhythmic 
colour. 

Until,  and  to  some  extent  even  in,  Leonardo  da  Vinci's 
skill,  there  is  the  feeling  of  the  artist  struggling  with  his 
skill  of  hand  to  utter  the  music  of  his  vision — the  hand 
does  not  quite  achieve  except  by  dogged  labour. 

Henceforth  the  hand's  skill  is  to  become  more  facile, 
leaps  to  the  eye's  desire.  Michelangelo  employs  the 
significant  phrase  in  one  of  his  sonnets — "  the  hand  obedient 
to  the  brain."  The  hand  leaps  to  utter  the  artist's  desire  ; 
the  dragging  sense  of  endeavour  departs  from  it.  Art 
conceals  art.  All  that  the  Florentine  genius  is  capable 
of  doing  within  the  limits  of  its  skill  of  hand,  it  is  now 
about  to  achieve — and  in  superb  fashion. 

I  repeat :  up  to,  and  in  a  large  degree  including,  the 
art  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  there  is  in  all  Florentine  art  the 
sense  of  toil  to  create  the  impression.  After  Leonardo  this 
sense  of  labour  is  flown.  There  is  in  Leonardo's  art,  for  all 
its  supreme  force,  a  feeling  akin  to  the  century  that  created 
him,  rather  than  to  the  century  that  followed.  And  it  is 
140 


OF   PAINTING 


for  this  reason  that  I  would  class  him  as  the  supreme  singer  WHEREIN 
of  the  springtime  of  the  Renaissance  rather  than  one  of  the  WE   MEET 
stars  of  the   Golden   Age.       But    the   world    has    ordered  THE  GIANT 
otherwise  ;    therefore,  so  let  it  be.     And,  of  a  truth,  the  ^^   THE 
genius  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  was  so  compelling  that  the  ^"^I^G- 
inquisition  of  his  profound  vision  sought  out  the  secrets  of  ^Tip    pVr 
the  later  age — to  that  age  he  was  a  mighty  forerunner ;  and  xtatccaxt^p 
he  stands,  thereby,  straddling  like  a  giant  between  the  two. 
It  was  given  to  only  one  man  of  the  Golden  Age  to  surpass 
him  in  intensity  of  power  and  sublimity  of  conception;  yet 
even  Michelangelo  was  unable  to  touch  some  of  the  chords 
of  Leonardo's  astounding  art. 

LEONARDO  DA  VINCI 

1452  -  1519 

We  have  seen  the  Florentine  genius  develop  along 
two  paths,  side  by  side.  On  the  one  hand,  through  the 
fourteen-hundreds,  the  spiritual  and  tenderly  pietistic  art 
of  Fra  Angelico  passed  into  the  more  worldly  piety  of 
Fra  Lippo  Lippi,  who  went  a-courting  the  beautiful  nun, 
Lucrezia  Buti  ;  then  Lippo  Lippi's  pupil,  Botticelli,  "  the 
reanimate  Greek,"  brought  the  pagan  gods  dancing  and 
piping  within  the  precincts  of  the  church,  with  Ghirlandaio 
working  alongside  of  him;  and  Lippo  Lippi's  love-child, 
Filippino  Lippi,  completed  the  conquest  of  the  great  world 
over  the  simple  faith  of  the  forerunner,  Fra  Angelico. 
Then,  it  will  be  seen,  the  goldsmith-painters  —  since 
Filippino  Lippi,  though  not  a  goldsmith,  was  of  them 
by  birth  and  blood  and  tradition  and  training — largely 
wrought  out  the  pietistic  development  of  Florentine  art 
that  aimed  at  beauty. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  tragic  and  sombre  realism  that 
Donatello  and  Masaccio  created,  wrought  out  the  Florentine 

141 


A   HISTORY 


THE  spirit  on  its  realistic  side  in  broad  and  majestic  fashion,  with 

GOLDEN         fearless  eyes  for  the  truth,  and  reahsing  ugliness  as  well  as 
AGE  beauty  to  be  a  significance ;    seeing  life  more  whole,  and 

not  flinching  from  it.  From  Masaccio  and  Donatello, 
through  Andrea  dal  Castagno  and  Domenico  Veneziano 
and  Uccello,  and  Dei  Franceschi,  the  tragic  flame  was 
handed  on  to  the  brothers  Pollaiuoli,  who  as  goldsmiths 
had  turned  their  eyes  to  the  sculptured  form  of  the  human 
nude,  from  whom  the  tradition  passed  to  their  pupil 
Verrocchio,  likewise  pupil  to  Donatello,  whose  superb 
equestrian  statue  of  Gattamelata  in  bronze  at  Padua  this 
Verrocchio  rivalled  with  his  famed  equestrian  statue  of  the 
condottiere  Colleoni  at  Venice — two  amongst  the  greatest 
works  of  man's  hands. 

In  Verrocchio's  painting  was  knit  together  something 
of  the  two  Florentine  temperaments  in  art  and  in  life  ;  and 
it  was  fitting  that  out  of  Verrocchio's  studio  should  come 
the  youth  who  was  still  further  to  knit  together  her  full 
significance,  as  he  was  also  to  create  in  his  own  person  the 
sculpture  and  the  painting  of  his  century,  gathering  together, 
as  unto  a  mighty  flowering,  the  sap  and  tree  of  that 
century  as  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci  was  to  express  in  his  art,  as  he 
held  in  his  genius,  the  full  significance  of  his  age — the 
triumphs  of  the  scientific  spirit  of  the  Renaissance  that 
arose  to  full  honour  under  the  mantle  of  the  church.  Over 
all  that  he  wrought  is  the  inscrutable  smile  of  the  Sphinx, 
the  eternal  question  of  the  significance  of  life.  Did  he  solve 
it  ?  For  answer  we  can  only  turn  to  that  baffling,  question- 
ing smile.  Here  is  the  Renaissance  stated  in  terms  of  Art. 
In  the  realm  of  colour  he  was  not  the  greatest  painter 
of  Italy  of  the  fourteen-hundreds  ;  but  in  his  complete 
utterance  as  artist  his  achievement  is  prodigious.  All  that 
142 


OF    PAINTING 


had  gone  before,  all  that  was  being  wrought  about  him,  he  WHEREIN 
made  his  own  ;  and  his  hand  gave  forth  the  impression  of  WE    MEET 
a  vigorous  and   keen   brain   that  saw,  and  of  a  quick  in-  THE  GIANT 
quisitive  temperament  that  felt,  the  mystery  of  the  miracle  ^^   THE 
of  Reality  and  its  oneness  with  Spirituality.      He  employed 
colour  with  the  prodigious  restraint  that  was  a  part  of  all  'prrp    up 
his  restless,  feverish   activity — he   employed  it  but  to  en-  >s^AISSANCE 
hance  the  harmony  of  his  deeply  conceived  impressions  of 
things,   so   that   it  becomes   resonant   and   deeply   musical, 
compelling  the  eyes  to  the  deeps  of  what  he  saw  and  felt. 
It  is  rather  in  the   vibrant   atmosphere   which  he   creates 
about  his  figures,  chiefly  by  a  consummate  employment  of 
light  and  shade  (what  is  called  chiaroscuro^  or  the  blackness 
and  whiteness  of  darkness  and  light),  so  that  his  line  and 
form  lose  their  linear  classical  aim,  that  Leonardo  moves 
the  craftsmanship  of  art  forward  towards  its  vaster  powers 
of  impressionism ;   that   is  to   say,  by  the   employment  of 
masses  in  their  relation  to  each  other,  he  becomes  the  fore- 
runner of  a  mighty  advance  in  artistry.    He  was  too  steeped 
in,  too  much  a  child  of,  his  age,  wholly  to  rid  himself  of  its 
exquisite   classical   sense   of  the  rhythm  of  line  ;    but  his 
inquisitive  and  keen  searching  eyes  had  beheld  in  sculpture 
the  play  of  light  and  shade  upon  the  surfaces,  giving  the 
living  sense  of  movement  and  mystery  ;  and  he  bent  all  his 
compelling  genius  to  create  by  draughtsmanship  and  paint- 
ing this  illusion  of  life  upon  the  painted  object,  held  in  the 
play  of  atmosphere.     There  is  revealed  by  his  art  at  once 
a  power  never  before  known  in  painting  ;  but  for  which 
the  age  of  Praxiteles  had  striven  in  ancient  Greece — the 
effort  to  express  the  subtlety  of  life  in  the  painted  flesh. 

He  who  gazes  at  the  all  too  rare  masterpieces  of 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  will  be  touched  by  the  sense  of  this 
subtle  movement,  as  though  the  objects  painted  on  the  flat 

H3 


A   HISTORY 


THE  surface  were  in   a  deep  mirror,  stirring  and  looming  and 

GOLDEN         rhythmic  as  though  they  were  attune  to  sound,  affecting 
AGE  the  senses  like  some  haunting  music.     Botticelli's  exquisite 

sense  of  line  and  colour  have  vanished  into  lineless  massing 
that  holds  an  intensity  of  life  and  moves  in  one's  senses  as 
though  the  breath  stirred  their  surfaces.  Not  only  have 
we  now  the  height  and  width  of  a  flat  decorated  surface ; 
not  only  the  depth  of  vision  of  things  seen  as  though  in  a 
mirror;  but  a  strange  subtlety  of  atmosphere  that  surrounds 
each  living  thing. 

In  the  mid-century  of  the  fourteen-hundreds,  1452, 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  was  born,  as  his  name  tells  us,  in  the 
little  village  of  Vinci,  set  high  on  the  top  of  a  hill  amidst 
the  hills  that  lie  by  Empoli  in  the  valley  of  the  Arno.  He 
was  one  of  the  world's  great  illegitimates.  The  natural  son 
of  Ser  Piero,  a  notary  of  Vinci — this  Ser  Piero's  forefathers 
had  been  notaries  for  four  generations  before  him — and  of 
one  Caterina,  who  afterwards  married  Accattabriga  di  Piero 
del  Vaccha  of  Vinci,  he  is  first  mentioned  as  being  five 
years  of  age  in  a  taxation  return  made  in  1457  ^7  ^^^ 
grandfather,  Antonio  da  Vinci  ;  nor  is  his  birth  likely  to 
have  been  recorded  with  elaborate  care.  This  grandfather 
seems  to  have  been  a  true  gentleman,  for  the  boy  was 
brought  up  and  educated  in  his  house  ;  and  the  father 
seems  to  have  had  the  boy  legitimised  in  his  early  youth. 
This  Ser  Piero  was  much  given  to  marrying  as  well  as  to 
affairs  of  the  heart,  for  he  was  four  times  a  bridegroom,  and 
by  his  third  and  fourth  wives  had  eleven  lawful  children — 
which  probably  caused  considerable  friction  in  youth  for 
Leonardo. 

In  youth  his  personal  beauty  was  renowned,  his  speech 
fascinating,  and  his  charm  of  manner  as  remarkable.     Of 
such  prodigious  strength  that  he  could  bend  an  iron  ring  or 
144 


XVII 

LEONARDO   DA   VINCI 
1452  -  1519 

FLORENTINE  AND  MILANESE  SCHOOLS 

"THE  VIRGIN  OF  THE  ROCKS" 

(National  Gallery) 

The  Virgin  kneels  amid  flowers  beneath  dark  basaltic  rocks.  She  places 
her  right  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  St.  John  the  Baptist;  her  left  held  out 
in  benediction  over  the  Infant  Christ  seated  on  the  ground  beside  an 
angel. 

Painted  on  wood,  arched  at  the  top.  6  ft.  o|  in.  h.  x  3  ft.  9^  in.  w. 
(1-841  X  1-155). 


.^J^ 


OF   PAINTING 


horse-shoe  with  his  fingers,  his  touch  was  so  delicate  that  WHEREIN 

he  was  famed  for  his  mastery  of  the  lute.     He  composed  WE    MEET 

music,  wrote  sonnets.     His  researches  into  science  and  art  THE  GIANT 

were   profound  ;    his    philosophy   forestalled   most   modern  -IHli 

r  r    y  SPRINP- 

thought — he  stated  Will  as  the  energy  of  life.     He  lifted  X^p\t>  >.p 

the  veil  from  many  secrets  of  science.     Yet,  the  pursued  T-rrp    pp. 

object  once  discovered,  he  seemed  content,  and  passed  to  NAISSANCE 

other  things.     The  only  portrait  known  of  Leonardo  was 

painted  in  his  old  age,  and  gives  small  hint  of  the  splendid 

physique  of  the  man. 

At  eighteen,  in  1470,  Leonardo  joined  the  studio  of  the 
sculptor-painter  Andrea  del  Verrocchio,  where  he  was  to 
meet  gentle  Lorenzo  di  Credi,  genial  Botticelli,  and  scoun- 
drelly Perugino.  His  abundant  and  astounding  genius 
soon  revealed  itself;  and  he  early  surpassed  his  master  in 
painting.  It  was  whilst  Verrocchio  was  at  work  on  his 
Baptism  of  Christ,  to-day  at  the  Academy  in  Florence,  that 
Leonardo,  as  we  have  seen,  was  set  to  paint  one  of  the 
angels  ;  and  Verrocchio  was  so  astonished  at  the  power  and 
the  gifts  displayed  by  his  pupil  that  he  straightway  vowed 
never  again  to  take  brush  in  hand. 

Leonardo's  twentieth  year,  1472,  saw  his  name  enrolled 
in  the  Company  of  Painters  in  Florence  ;  and  small  wonder, 
since  he  painted  about  that  time  the  little  Assumption  now 
at  the  Louvre,  long  attributed  to  Lorenzo  di  Credi. 

The  31st  of  December  1479  was  the  day  of  the  public 
execution  of  Bernardo  Bandini  for  his  part  in  the  slaying 
of  Giuliano  de'  Medici  during  High  Mass  in  Florence 
Cathedral,  when  Lorenzo  so  narrowly  escaped — the  attempt 
at  the  destruction  of  the  house  of  the  Medici  known  as  the 
Pazzi  Conspiracy.  Leonardo  da  Vinci  made  a  fine  drawing 
of  Bandini,  dated  upon  that  day. 

This   also   was   the   year  of  Leonardo's   unfinished   St, 

VOL.  I T  145 


A   HISTORY 


THE  'Jerome  in  the  Desert^  now  at  the  Vatican,  which  Cardinal 

GOLDEN         Fesch  found,  part  being  used  as   a   box-lid   in   a  shop  in 
AGE  Rome,  and  the  other  part  in  a  shoemaker's  shop  some  time 

afterwards. 

The  unfinished  cartoon  of  The  Adoration  of  the  Magi 
at  the  Uffizi  was  done  for  the  monks  of  S.  Donato  at 
Scopeto  in  Leonardo's  twenty-eighth  year  (1480). 

It  was  about  his  thirtieth  year,  in  1482  or  1483,  that 
Leonardo  da  Vinci's  restless  and  untiring  spirit  caused  him 
to  turn  his  eyes  towards  Milan,  then  the  most  important  and 
magnificent  Court  in  the  north  ;  and  he  started  on  that 
fateful  series  of  moves  that  were  to  have  so  profound  an 
effect  on  Italy  and  France  ;  and  to  narrow  perhaps  the  wide 
creation  that  should  have  been  the  fruit  of  his  vast  energy 
and  intellect. 

To  Milan  then  he  went,  about  1482,  to  enter  the  service 
of  Ludovico  Sforza,  Duke  of  Milan,  as  scientist,  architect, 
sculptor,  painter,  military  engineer,  or  what-you-will  ;  and 
in  Milan  he  made  his  restless  home  for  close  on  seventeen 
of  the  best  years  of  his  life,  until  in  his  forty-seventh  year, 
1499,  on  the  edge  of  the  fifteen-hundreds,  he  returned  to 
Florence.  Those  seventeen  years  in  Milan  were  strenuous 
years  of  unbounded  energy  and  achievement  in  almost  every 
intellectual  and  artistic  and  scientific  activity.  The  vast 
range  of  his  interests  and  his  work  is  well-nigh  incredible. 
In  his  thirtieth  year,  with  full  knowledge  of  his  great 
powers,  and  no  mean  estimate  of  them,  his  abilities  to  carry 
out  his  wide-ranging  talents  were  unbounded.  The  field 
of  his  industry  and  endeavour  was  limitless.  To  every 
activity  of  the  human  understanding,  so  far  as  learning  had 
then  developed  these  activities,  he  turned  his  keen  eyes, 
increasing  the  aim,  and  thrusting  forward  the  outposts  and 
enlarging  the  conquest  and  domain  of  each. 
146 


XVIII 

LEONARDO   DA   VINCI 
1452  -  1519 

"THE  LAST  SUPPER" 

Refectory  of  St.  Maria  delle  Grazie,  Milan.  This,  the  world-reputed 
masterpiece  upon  which  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  fame  chiefly  rests,  was  painted 
in  oils  upon  a  stucco  ground,  which  caused  its  rapid  decay.  The  monks 
pierced  the  lower  part  with  a  doorway ;  and  Napoleon's  cavalry,  stabled  in 
the  Refectory,  came  wellnigh  to  ending  it. 

About  13  ft.  8  in,  h.  x  26  ft.  7  in.  w.  (+16  x  8'G9). 


XIX 

LEONARDO   DA   VINCI 
1452  -  1519 

"THE  HEAD  OF  CHRIST" 

In  the  Brera  Gallery  (Milan) 

This,  the  wonderful  study  made  by  Leonardo  for  his  great  masterpiece 
of  The  Last  Suffer,  reveals  him  as  pure  poet. 

I  ft.  o^  in.  X  I  ft.  4  in.  (0-52  x  0-40). 


OF  PAINTING 


Leonardo,  in  his  letter  to  Sforza  of  Milan  giving  the  WHEREIN 
list  of  services  that  he  w^ould  render  to  any  potentate,  v^ith  WE   MEET 
no   shy  or   uncertain   estimate   of  his  w^orth,  does  not  set  THE  GIANT 
himself  dow^n   as   artist   above   all,   but   as   scientist.     Nor  ^^   THE 
w^ere  his  gifts  greater  in  artistry,  whether  of  design  or  painting  ^P'^^^G- 
or  sculpture  or  music,  v^hether  in  that  mighty  activity  of  ^^j^    pr> 
architecture   that   is  science  and  art  united,   than  v^^as  his  xTATccAMr-T? 
astonishing    knowledge    or    engineering,    geology,    mathe- 
matics, the  science  of  war  and  the  engines  of  war,  or  in 
human  anatomy  and  in  worldly  philosophy.     His  writings 
on  the  theory  and  practice  of  art  are  profound.     He  could 
find  time,  amid  prodigious  intellectual  pursuits  such  as  might 
have  wearied  a  score  of  great  brains,  to  plan  and  design  the 
Court  pageants  of  the  Duke  of  Milan.    And  to  the  invention 
of  a  flying-machine  he  brought  his  untiring  genius  with 
dogged   insistence.      His    restless    and    active    imagination 
dreamed  no  vague  dreams ;  the  cunning  of  his  hands,  above 
all  of  his  wonderful  left  hand,  itched  ever  to  bring  to  reality 
the   prodigious   schemings  of  his   scientific    and    practical 
brain. 

Leonardo  could  scarce  have  settled  in  Milan  when  he 
began  to  paint  in  oils  his  famous  La  Vierge  aux  Rochers — 
"  the  Virgin  of  the  Rocks  " — the  work  of  1482,  his  thirtieth 
year.  The  painting  remained  in  Milan  some  twelve  years, 
when,  about  1494,  it  was  sold  to  the  king  of  France.  A 
petition  was  presented  to  the  Duke  of  Milan  by  the  artists 
Ambrogio  da  Predis  and  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  "  the  Floren- 
tine," begging  him  to  be  judge  of  a  dispute  that  had  broken 
out  between  the  aforesaid  artists  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
Brotherhood  of  the  Conception  at  S.  Francesco  in  Milan 
on  the  other,  as  to  the  moneys  to  be  paid  for  "  a  picture  in 
oils  of  the  Madonna."     This  painting   is   held   to   be  the 

147 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Vierge  aux  Rochers,  to-day  in  the  Louvre ;  the  which  Leon- 

GOLDEN         ardo  da  Vinci  had  painted  some  ten  years  earlier,  in  1482, 
A-GE  as  we  have  seen.     At  the  same  time,  it  is  difficult  to  see 

why  Ambrogio  da  Predis  should  have  been  mixed  up  in 
the  squabble,  unless  he  too  had  had  a  hand  in  the  painting 
of  the  Louvre  picture.  However  that  may  be,  the  picture 
is  said  to  have  been  sold  about  1495  ^°^  ^^^  amount  de- 
manded by  the  painters  to  another  buyer,  supposed  to  have 
been  acting  for  the  king  of  France.  The  two  artists  then 
wrought  another  version  of  this  Vierge  aux  Rochers,  the 
Virgin  of  the  Rocks,  reputed  to  have  been  painted  by  Am- 
brogio da  Predis  under  the  guidance  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
for  the  smaller  price  which  the  Brotherhood  were  ready  to 
pay,  to  be  set  up  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Conception.  This 
picture  was  brought  to  England  some  three  hundred  years 
later  by  Gavin  Hamilton  in  1777,  who  sold  it  to  the  then 
Marquess  of  Lansdowne,  by  whom  it  was  exchanged  for 
another  picture  at  Charlton  Park,  in  Wiltshire,  belonging  to 
the  Earl  of  Suffolk,  from  whom  it  was  bought  by  the 
National  Gallery  for  nine  thousand  pounds  in  1880. 

The  differences  between  the  Louvre  version  of  the 
Vierge  aux  Rochers  and  the  National  Gallery  Virgin  of  the 
Rocks  in  general  arrangement  are  so  slight  as  to  prove  that 
one  is  at  least  an  intended  replica  of  the  other  ;  but  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  the  Louvre  painting,  if  by  Leonardo,  is 
obviously  earlier  and  less  mature  than  the  London  Virgin  of 
the  Rocks,  considerable  doubt  must  hang  about  the  greater 
claim  to  authentic  certainty  as  regards  the  Louvre  picture. 
We  have  seen  that  Ambrogio  da  Predis  was  partner  in 
Leonardo's  appeal  concerning  the  payment  for  it,  the  which 
establishes  da  Predis's  handiwork  upon  the  Louvre  picture 
for  a  certainty.  It  may  be  that  both  paintings  were  wrought 
by  the  two  painters.  But  not  a  doubt  can  remain  in  the 
148 


XX 

LEONARDO  DA  VINCT 
1452  -  1519 

FLORENTINE  SCHOOL 

"MONA  LISA" 
(La  Joconde) 

(Louvre) 

The  portrait  of  Lisa  di  Anton  Maria  di  Noldo  Gherardini,  third  wife 
of  Francesco  di  Bartolommeo  de  Zenobi  del  Giocondo.  This  picture  is 
world -renowned  for  the  sphinx-like  smile  of  Mona  Lisa. 

Painted  in  tempera  on  panel,  and  restored  in  oil.     2  it.  6^  in.  x  i  ft.  9  in. 

(079x0-53). 


OF   PAINTING 


mind  of  such  as  have  a  real  sense  of  art,  that  the  Virgin  of  WHEREIN 
the  Rocks  is  by  far  the  more  profound  work  of  genius.     And  WE    MEET 
if    Ambrogio    da    Predis    only    worked    upon    it    under  THE  GIANT 
Leonardo's   guidance,  then  Ambrogio  da   Predis   must   be  ^^   THE 
acclaimed  the  greater  artist.     There  can  be  no  shadow  of  -pyj^p  T^t- 
doubt  that  the   Virgin  of  the  Rocks  is  in  greater  and  most  -pTrp    j^p 
important  part  the  work  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci ;   and,  not  XAISSANCE 
only  so,  but  it  is  about  his  supreme  achievement  in  painting 
that   has   come   down   to   us.     The   dozen   years   or   so   of 
difference  in  the  time  of  the  creation  of  the  two  master- 
pieces would  account  for  the  enormous  increase  of  power 
revealed   in   the    Virgin  of  the   Rocks — if  Leonardo   chiefly 
painted  it.     There  are  unimportant  details  in  the  picture 
which,  by  their  comparative   weakness   of  handling,  may 
admit  of  Ambrogio  da  Predis's  workmanship,  though  even 
these  are  open  to  grave  question.     That  the  gilt  halos,  the 
cross  of  the  little  Baptist,  and  certain  retouchings  on  the 
left  hand  of  the  Virgin,  the  right  arm  of  the  child  Christ, 
and  the  forehead  of  the  little  St.  John  the  Baptist,  are  not 
Leonardo's  original  handiwork,  may  be  likely  enough.     But 
the  masterly  arrangement  of  the  whole  scheme,  the  pro- 
found harmony  with  which  it  is  uttered,  giving  forth  the 
resounding  orchestration  of  light  and  shade  as  of  majestic 
musical  sounds,  the  haunting  melody  of  the  piece  created 
by  the  subtle  play  of  light  and  shadow  upon  the  features 
and  figures  which  create  a  sense  as  of  moving  living  things, 
the  wondrous  impressionism  aroused  by  the  massing  of  these 
lights  and  shadows,  the  vibrant  depth  of  the  landscape,  and 
the  almost  awful  reverence  of  the  exquisite  simple  protecting 
love  of  motherhood  for  childhood,  for  all  its  tender  passion, 
holding  a  tragic  threat  even  whilst  that  sphinx-like  smile 
wreathes   the  lips  of  mother  and  guardian  angel,  all  this 
vast  gamut  of  the  sensed  emotions  that  are  roused  in  the 

149 


A   HISTORY 


THE  presence  of  this  wondrously  destined  Child  as  Son  of  God, 

GOLDEN         and  of  the  tragic  destiny  that  stands  in  the  deep  shadows  of 
^^^  the  rocks  for  that  Mother,   are  stated  with  a  dramatic  in- 

tensity that  the  art  of  painting  heretofore  had  never 
approached,  and  has  never  surpassed.  The  naive,  simple 
faith  of  an  earlier  church  has  departed,  the  elaborate  pagan- 
ised Christianity  of  Florence  of  the  fourteen-hundreds  is 
swept  aside,  and  a  man  has  arisen  who  sees  in  the  great 
world-story  a  compelling  and  dramatic  significance  that  has 
an  intensity  that  is  Greek  in  its  inevitable  tragedy,  but 
giving  forth  a  philosophy  of  which  Greece  knew  nothing, 
which  even  the  Italy  of  his  own  day  is  unable  to  understand. 
There,  on  the  stroke  of  1500,  the  republic  of  Florence 
has  brought  forth  a  man  who  rises  above  the  mere  worldly 
ambitions  and  mere  social  success  that  rack  the  age,  who 
leaps  from  one  endeavour  to  another,  reckless  of  the  accumu- 
lation of  mere  wealth,  bent  only  on  so  exercising  his  vast 
gifts  that  he  may  move  forward  to  largest  experience  of 
life  and  enable  mankind,  by  the  wizardy  of  his  art,  to 
partake  of  that  vaster  emotional  experience. 

And  this  intense  and  eager  gaze  wherewith  he  saw  life, 
with  all  its  subtlety,  balked  at  every  step  by  all  its  baffling 
enigma,  all  this  keen  sense  of  the  profundity  of  life  and 
created  things,  he  bent  his  whole  powers  to  express  in  his 
art.  He  was  not  content  to  make  of  painting  a  beautiful 
decorative  design  ;  he  compelled  all  his  intense  powers  to 
the  passionate  endeavour  to  make  his  art  reveal  the  mystic 
significance  of  things — he  essayed  to  realise  the  type  and 
character  and  significance  of  everything.  He  was  not 
content  merely  to  range  the  realm  of  colour  in  order  to 
play  elaborate  five-fingered  exercises  in  it;  he  but  employed 
it  as  part  of  a  great  whole,  as  no  more  important,  nor 
less  important,  than  the  play  of  light  and  shade,  than  form 
ISO 


OF   PAINTING 


and  depth  and  space  and  arrangement,  to  utter  forth  the  WHEREIN 
profound   sense   of  life.      He    used    painting    with   plastic  WE   MEET 
power,  as  though  to  unite  the  strength  of  sculptured  forms  THE  GIANT 
with  it.     He  created  a  style,  bendin?  all  the  crafts  to  it,  ^^   THE 
so   that   they   would   but   give  forth   the   music   that    was  '^^^^^^'^- 
;n  u;r^  TIME  OF 

'"  ^'"'-  THE   RE- 

From   the   year    1483,  being    thirty-one,   to    1487,   all  x-ATccAvrF 

record,  gossip,  and  report  of  him  are  silent  throughout 
Italy ;  and  the  silence  lends  force  to  the  tradition  that  he 
went  abroad  to  the  East  as  engineer  in  the  service  of  the 
Sultan  of  Egypt.  To  Milan  he  came  back  in  his  thirty- 
fifth  year,  and  by  1490  was  writing  his  Treatise  on  Paintings 
getting  to  work  again  also  on  the  famed  colossal  equestrian 
statue  of  Francesco  Sforza  in  plaster,  which  was  set  up  in 
Milan,  but  was  destined  never  to  be  completed  in  bronze; 
for  it  was  never  cast  in  metal,  owing  to  the  disasters  that 
fell,  as  out  of  the  blue,  upon  Milan  in  1500,  when,  in  the 
April  of  1500,  after  the  defeat  of  Ludovico,  then  Duke  of 
Milan,  at  the  battle  of  Novara,  the  French  bowmen  brought 
down  the  plaster  figure  in  ruins. 

But  before  these  black  days  were  to  fall  on  Milan  and 
send  Leonardo  packing,  he  was  at  work  upon  the  huge 
painting  on  which  his  greatest  fame  as  a  painter  rests — the 
world-reputed  masterpiece  of  The  Last  Supper.  Painted  in 
oils  upon  the  stucco  surface  of  the  wall  of  the  Refectory  in 
the  Dominican  Convent  of  S.  Maria  delle  Grazie  at  Milan, 
Leonardo  put  the  last  touch  of  his  brush  upon  it  in  1498, 
his  forty-sixth  year.  The  use  of  oil  upon  a  stucco  ground 
caused  the  rapid  decay  of  the  great  work  within  a  couple  of 
generations  of  its  painting  ;  and  neglect  and  ill-use — the 
monks  damaged  the  lower  part  by  piercing  it  with  the  top 
of  a  doorway  through  the  wall ;  and  Napoleon's  cavalry, 
being    stabled   in   the    Refectory   against  his   strict   orders. 


A   HISTORY 


THE  pelted  dirt  at  the  heads  of  the  figures — came  well-nigh  to 

GOLDEN         ending  it.     Yet  the  splendid  ghost  of  it  remains.     A  copy, 
AGE  t}^g  size  of  the  original,  now  in  the  Diploma  Gallery  of  the 

Royal  Academy  at  Burlington  House,  said  to  have  been 
painted  by  Marco  d'Oggiono,  one  of  Leonardo's  pupils, 
gives  with  crude  sense  of  colour  and  form  some  poor  idea 
of  it.  But  the  ghost  of  what  it  once  was,  where  it  is  still 
to  be  seen  in  Milan,  holds  far  more  hint  of  the  original. 
The  composition  yields  a  sense  of  grandeur,  and  the  whole 
is  instinct  with  dramatic  and  tragic  intensity.  It  is  told  of 
Leonardo  that  the  prior  of  the  convent,  complaining  to 
Ludovico  Sforza  that  the  artist  was  idling  over  the  fresco, 
Leonardo  silenced  him  by  threatening  to  paint  the  prior's 
portrait  into  the  face  of  Judas.  How  the  painting  has 
escaped  its  many  vicissitudes — it  was  long  used  for  storing 
hay,  and  has  been  flooded  more  than  once — is  a  marvel. 
In  detail  it  must  have  contained  superb  qualities.  The 
study  for  the  Head  of  the  Christ  at  the  Brera  in  Milan 
reveals  the  intense  dramatic  insight  and  astounding  faculty 
for  character,  the  supreme  grip  in  the  creation  of  types 
fitted  to  express  the  idea,  and  the  exquisite  poetic  vision  of 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  in  consummate  fashion. 

Ludovico  Sforza,  Duke  of  Milan,  had  married  the 
fifteen-year-old  Beatrice  d'Este  in  1491.  The  extravagant 
girl  refused  to  wear  a  certain  handsome  gown  of  woven 
gold  —  she  possessed  eighty-four  —  which  Ludovico  had 
given  to  her,  if  Cecilia  Gallerani  wore  hers,  which  was 
exactly  like  it,  and  which  Ludovico  had  given  to  the  fair 
charmer.  Ludovico  gave  up  both  the  beauty  and  her  gown, 
getting  the  lady  married  off  to  Count  Ludovico  Bergamini 
within  a  year  of  his  own  marriage  with  Beatrice  d'Este. 
But  Milan's  eyes  got  wandering  again  full  soon ;  and  five 
years  later,  in  1496,  Ludovico  Sforza  was  deeply  enamoured 
152 


OF   PAINTING 


of  Duchess   Beatrice's   lady-in-waiting,  Lucrezia  Crevelli.  WHEREIN 
Leonardo    painted    Lucrezia    Crevelli's    picture,    but    it    is  WE   MEET 
certainly  not  the  portrait  attributed  to  him  in  the  Louvre.      THE  GIANT 

However,  Beatrice  d'Este's  jealousies  were  near  at  an  end.  THE 

On  the  2nd  of  the  January  of  1497,  ^^^^^  spending  three  ^twc-    ni? 
hours  in  prayer  in  the  Church  of  S.  Maria  delle  Grazie,  -prrp    ^t^ 
which  Leonardo's  Last  Supper  adorns,  she  gave  birth  that  vaiSSANCE 
night  to  a  still-born  child,  and  a  few  hours  later  breathed 
her  last.     It  made  Ludovico  a  changed  man  ;  broken  with 
grief,  he  visited  her  tomb  every  day. 

But  stormy  days  were  coming  for  Milan.  In  the 
September  of  1499  Ludovico  left  Milan  for  the  Tvrol  to 
raise  an  army  against  the  French  invasion ;  in  his  absence, 
on  the  14th  of  the  month,  Bernardino  di  Corte  sold  the 
city  to  the  French ;  Louis  xii.  entered  it  in  triumph  on  the 
6th  of  October — the  French  holding  the  city  for  twelve 
years. 

By  some  strange  chance,  the  Diploma  Gallery  of  the 
Royal  Academy  also  possesses  Leonardo's  fine  cartoon  for 
his  Virgin  and  Child  with  St.  Anne  and  St.  John,  upon  which 
he  wrought  in  the  autumn  of  1499,  destined  therefore  to 
be  the  last  work  of  his  hands  in  Milan;  for  the  Duke 
Ludovico  had  to  flee  the  city,  into  which  Louis  xii.  of 
France  made  his  triumphant  entry. 

Leonardo  had  hurriedly  left  Milan  also,  and  the  spring 
of  1500  saw  him  at  Mantua,  where  he  met  Isabella  d'Este, 
the  beautiful  sister  of  the  dead  Beatrice — his  portrait  of  her 
in  chalk  is  now  at  the  Louvre. 

Leonardo  went  from  Mantua  to  Venice;  thence,  about 
the  Easter  of  1500,  back  to  Florence.  The  cartoon  which 
he  made  for  his  second  Virgin  and  Child  with  Saint  Anne  in 
the  April  of  150 1  has  vanished  ;  but  the  oil  painting  is  now 
at  the  Louvre,  said  to  show  also  the  partnership  of  a  pupil. 
VOL.  I — u  153 


A    HISTORY 


THE  It  was  soon  after  his  return  to  Florence  that   Leonardo 

GOLDEN         began  to  paint  his  world-famous  Mona  Lisa,  the  third  wife 
AGE  of  Francesco  del  Giocondo,  hence  its  name  La  'Joconde.    We 

have  Vasari's  gossip  for  it,  that  Leonardo  '*  loitered  over  the 
picture  for  four  years,"  and  that  "  whilst  he  was  painting  the 
portrait,  Leonardo  took  the  precaution  to  keep  some  one 
ever  near  her,  to  sing  or  play  on  instruments,  or  to  jest  and 
otherwise  amuse  her,  to  the  end  that  she  might  continue 
cheerful."  The  haunting  smile  of  Mona  Lisa,  and  her  intent 
rapt  gaze  as  of  one  listening  to  music,  were  caught  and 
fixed  with  all  the  mature  skill  and  wizardry  of  Leonardo's 
genius.  The  picture,  after  its  many  and  merciless  cleanings, 
remains  a  ghost  of  its  once  self;  yet  what  a  wondrous  and 
haunting  ghost  it  is  ! 

But  during  its  painting  Leonardo  did  many  things.  He 
visited  Umbria,  acting  as  engineer  and  architect  to  Cesare 
Borgia. 

The  pedant  critics,  straining  every  masterpiece  into  their 
eternal  cult  of  beauty,  label  her  as  beautiful.  Well ;  'tis 
an  affair  of  taste,  and  matters  little  !  It  is  far  greater  and 
more  compelling  than  mere  beauty.  Its  strange  and  haunt- 
ing sense  of  life — one  can  hear  the  breath  stirring  in  the 
languorous  body,  feel  the  peculiar  charm  of  the  sphinx-like 
smile — its  complete  immersion  in  the  atmosphere  that  holds 
the  figure,  make  it  one  of  the  supreme  works  of  man's 
hand. 

The  Mona  Lisa  was  bought  by  Francis  i.  of  France,  and 
remained  in  the  possession  of  the  kingly  house  of  France, 
until  it  passed  to  the  French  nation,  one  of  the  most  precious 
possessions  of  the  Louvre. 

In  the  January  of  1504,  the  year  he  finished  the  Mona 
Lisa,  being  fifty-two,  Leonardo  was  called  as  one  of  the  jury 
of  artists  by  the  Signoria  of  Florence  to  settle  the  site  for 

154 


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OF   PAINTING 


the  setting  up  of  Michelangelo's  great  statue  o^  David \  and  WHEREIN 

about  the  same  time  he  was  given  the  decoration  of  one  of  WE   MEET 

the  walls  of  the  Council  Hall  at  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  for  THE  GIANT 

which  he  took  as  subject  a  Skirmish  between  the  Florentine  and  I  HE 

•     •  SPRINC- 

Milanese  troops  at  Anghiari,  which  had  taken  place  in  1440,  ^t»>jt7   /^r? 

some  sixty  years  before.     He  made  the  magnificent  cartoon,  -pTrp    np 

but  finding  the  oil-paint  impossible  on  the  plaster  ground,  nAISSANCE 

after  working  upon  it  for  eight  months  he  abandoned  it  in 

despair.     The   cartoon,   as   long   as   it   existed,  roused   the 

enthusiastic  admiration  of  Florence,  and  was  said  to  have 

been  one  of  his  supreme  achievements  in  art ;  but  of  it  we 

can  only  now  judge  by  some  of  his  original  studies. 

In  his  fifty-fourth  year,  1506,  he  was  back  in  Milan, 
now  in  the  service  of  the  French  king;  but  1507  drew 
him  to  Florence  again  to  defend  a  lawsuit ;  the  next  year, 
1508,  he  was  again  in  Milan. 

It  was  in  15 16,  in  his  sixty-fourth  year,  that  the  ageing 
and  vigorous  painter  was  persuaded  by  Francis  i.  of  France, 
victor  of  Marignano,  to  go  with  him  to  France  on  a  princely 
income ;  and  he  never  looked  upon  the  land  of  his  own 
people  again.  It  was  in  these  last  years  that  he  drew  the 
only  portrait  of  himself,  as  an  old  man,  that  has  come  down 
to  us.  Three  years  afterwards,  on  the  2nd  of  the  May  of 
1 5 19,  at  his  residence  in  Cloux,  near  Amboise,  by  Tours, 
his  restless  spirit  passed  away — just  forty-five  years  before 
the  birth  of  Shakespeare. 

It  has  been  claimed  that  in  that  mighty  passing,  there 
departed  the  greatest  intellect  the  world  has  ever  seen. 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  was  not  wholly  that,  prodigious  as  was 
his  genius.  He  was  not  the  world's  greatest  artist,  stupend- 
ous master  though  he  was ;  nor  its  greatest  thinker,  powerful 
thinker  though  he  was  ;  nor  its  greatest  scientist.    Yet,  when 

155 


A   HISTORY 


THE  all  his  vast  gifts  are  summed  together,  and  set  in  one  man's 

GOLDEN         being,  he  stands  forth  a  very  giant.     Sovereign  master  of 

AGE  Sentiment  he  was  not ;  sovereign  master  of  Thought  he  was 

not ;  sovereign  master  of  Beauty  he  certainly  was  not.     But 

sovereign  of  a  profound  and  prodigious  achievement  he  was, 

which  perhaps  was  as  great  as  these. 

Embarrassing  his  teachers  in  childhood  by  profound 
mathematics  beyond  their  solving,  by  the  time  he  reached 
manhood  he  was  the  finest  master  of  anatomy  in  Italy.  In- 
venting machinery  for  water-mills  and  aqueducts ;  making 
engines  of  war ;  discovering  the  conical  rifle-bullet ;  making 
the  paddle-wheel  for  boats ;  conducting  deep  researches  into 
optics ;  an  architect,  he  raised  churches  and  buildings ;  an 
engineer,  he  planned  the  piercing  of  mountains  by  tunnels, 
the  connecting  of  rivers  by  canals ;  there  was  scarce  a 
region  of  science  that  he  did  not  master.  He  fore- 
stalled Copernicus's  theory  of  the  movement  of  the  earth  ; 
Lamarck's  classification  of  animals  into  vertebrate  and 
invertebrate — the  laws  of  gravitation,  of  friction,  of  heat, 
of  light ;  he  discovered  steam  as  a  motive  force  in  naviga- 
tion, magnetic  attraction,  the  use  of  the  stone-saw,  the 
circulation  of  the  blood  ;  he  invented  canals,  breech-loading 
cannon,  the  wheelbarrow,  the  swimming-belt,  the  com- 
position of  explosives,  the  smoke-stack,  and  the  mincing- 
machine.  Gifted  with  prodigious  patience,  unflagging 
industry,  he  never  allowed  his  quickness  of  surmise  to  be 
content  without  practical  test. 

Over  all  he  wrought  he  wrote  that  inscrutable  smile, 
sphinx-like,  that  baffles  us  in  our  survey  of  the  man 
himself. 

And  of  all  his  profound  insight  into  life,  perhaps  the 
most  profound  result  of  his  deep  inquisitions  was  his  dis- 
covery that  art  is  not  beauty.      He  found  that  art  was  the 

156 


OF   PAINTING 


Utterance  of  the  emotions.     "  Tears,"  said  he,  "  come  from  WHEREIN 

the  heart,  not  from  the  brain."     Sensitive  to  beauty  as  he  WE    MEET 

was — he  would  walk  the  streets  of  Florence  and  of  Milan  THE  GIANT 

learnins:  a   beautiful   face   by  heart,  then  home  and  set  it  -LWE 

.  SPRING- 

down  on  paper — but  not  for  its  mere  beauty  of  the  flesh,  ^j^^p    ^c- 

seeking  rather  to  search  its  emotional  significance,  its  char-  -pHF    RF 

acter,  its  spiritual  essence.     But  with  equal  inquisition  he  is[AISSANCE 

sought  to  utter  the  significance  of  ugliness.     He  assailed 

the  habit  of  painters  in  isolating  the  human   figure  from 

landscape ;  he  had  a  profound  feeling  for  the  oneness  of 

nature  and  of  life.     "  The  eye,"  said  he,  "  is  the  window 

of  the  soul." 

He  is  in  many  ways  the  supreme  spirit  of  the  Renais- 
sance— he  had  unlimited  passion  for  discovery. 

But,  for  Leonardo,  mere  discovery  was  not  enough  ; 
it  had  to  be  based  on  mastery  of  detail.  In  painting  he 
essayed  to  realise  the  completeness  on  the  painted  surface 
of  that  which  was  mirrored  in  the  eye  and  created  the 
impression  on  the  senses.  All  the  advances  in  craftsman- 
ship to  his  day — chemistry  of  colours,  science  of  composi- 
tion, perspective,  the  illusion  created  by  light  and  shadow, 
he  perfected  and  thrust  forward  to  mighty  achievement. 
The  Virgin  of  the  Rocks  holds  it  completely.  To  deceive 
the  eye  to  the  utmost  became,  as  it  was  the  aim  of  all 
Florentine  art  from  the  beginning,  his  goal.  But  he  knew 
that  impression,  not  imitation,  created  the  work  of  art. 
Look  upon  the  supreme  works  of  art  before  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  then  upon  his  hand's  skill — see  with  what  astound- 
ing draughtsmanship  his  drawing  of  a  lip,  of  the  curve 
of  a  cheek,  of  the  hardness  of  a  rock,  the  limpid  deeps  of 
atmosphere,  are  rendered !  How  the  rest  falls  back  into 
mere  effort  by  contrast!  How  his  profound  love  of  life 
and  all  living  things  comes  forth  !     This  great  powerful, 

^S7 


PAINTING 


THE  handsome  giant  would  buy  birds  in  the  market-place  that 

GOLDEN         he  might  let  them  go. 

^^^  Oddly  enough,   Leonardo  was   left-handed,  and  wrote 

from  right  to  left.  He  spent  himself  remorselessly — on  dis- 
covering flight  for  man,  on  puzzles,  on  making  flat  corks 
wherewith  to  walk  on  the  waters ;  always  for  Leonardo 
the  Riddle  of  the  Universe. 

His  achievement  is  a  vast  multitude  of  incomplete 
endeavour.  He  would  make  vast  preparations,  and  com- 
plete nothing.  So  that  men  cried  out  upon  him  that  he 
could  not  complete.  The  Prior  of  S.  Maria  delle  Grazie 
bitterly  complained  that  Leonardo  would  stand  gazing  for 
days  at  the  fresco  upon  which  he  should  have  been  at  work, 
and  for  weeks  would  not  come  near  it.  He  had  ever  the 
quick  retort  to  an  accusation,  "  The  man  of  genius  works 
most  when  his  hands  are  idle." 

The  fourteen-hundreds  came  to  an  end  in  a  sea  of 
cynicism  and  doubt — men's  eyes  bent  on  material  things. 
Turning  his  back  to  it  all,  Leonardo  stands  out,  seeking 
to  solve  the  infinite.  He  detested  convention — the  estab- 
lished and  completed  thing.  In  his  Last  Supper  he  flings 
aside  the  timidities,  flings  away  the  halos  of  the  apostles  ; 
takes  instead  a  dramatic  moment — the  moment  when 
Christ  announces,  '*  One  of  you  shall  betray  me  " ;  makes 
it  dramatic  ;  makes  each  apostle  a  human  character  ;  and, 
in  the  doing,  for  the  first  time  in  Italian  art,  creates  a 
beautiful  head  of  the  Christ. 

*'  Miserable  men,"  wrote  Leonardo,  "  how  often  do  you 
enslave  yourselves  to  gain  money."  He  put  will  and 
freedom  of  the  individual  above  all  things. 


.58 


XXI 

L  U  1  N  I 

i475?-i532 

"THE  MYSTIC  MARRIAGE  OF  ST.  CATHERINE" 

In  the  Brera  (Milan) 

The  Child  Christ  may  be  seen  placing  the  ring  upon  the  finger  of  St. 
Catherine. 


CHAPTER    XX 

WHEREIN  WE  SEE  THE  MIGHTY  GENIUS  OF  LEONARDO 
DA  VINCI  CREATE  THE  SCHOOL  OF  MILAN 

Leaving  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  dead  Leonardo  da  Vinci  WHEREIN 

in  France,  to  return  to  the  Florence  that  bred  him,  it  were  WE  SEE 

well  to  stay  our  feet  at  Milan  on  the  southward  journeying,  THE 

and  gaze  on  the  large  endeavour  that  essayed  to  create  the  MIGHTY 

art  of  what  is  known  as  the  Milanese  School,  under  the  SENILIS   OF 

magic    sway    of  Leonardo,    therefore    but    a    part    of  the  r^ ,    .rTx-rJi 

l_  •  ^       r  T^i  I^A     VliSCl 

achievement  of  rlorence.  „^t-  a^-t- 

_,  CREATE 

Leonardo  was  a  very  Florentme,  created  by  the  spirit  of  xhE 

Florence,  the  consummation  of  her  genius  in  the  fourteen-  SCHOOL 
hundreds.  Yet  he  created  the  greater  part  of  his  art,  OF  MILAN 
realised  the  fulness  of  his  genius,  outside  Florence  ;  and  it 
was  in  Milan  that  he  came  to  his  supreme  fulfilment. 
Over  Milan  he  cast  all  the  glamour  of  his  renown.  His 
colossal  personality  dominated  Milan,  and  was  to  cast  its 
atmosphere  over  Florence,  but  over  Milan  he  stood  a  very 
giant,  and  Lombardy  grew  to  claim  him  as  her  own. 

It  is  usual  for  writers  to  begin  a  dissertation  upon  the 
so-called  School  of  Lomdardy,  or  of  Milan,  by  vaunting  it 
against  the  schools  of  Padua  or  Verona.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  what  little  school  there  was  before  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
made  it  but  a  part  of  the  Florentine  achievement,  came  out 
of  Padua,  the  cradle  of  Venetian  painting.  Out  of  the 
famous  Paduan  school  of  Squarcione  came  a  pupil  to  found 
a  school  of  Milan,  and  known  to  fame  as  Foppa. 

159 


A    HISTORY 


THE  FOPPA 

GOLDEN  1427?-!  502 

^^^  The  founder  of  the  so-called  Milanese  School  of  Paint- 

ing, at  any  rate  the  head  of  the  school,  when  Leonardo 
da  Vinci  came  to  the  splendid  Court  of  Ludovico  il  Moro, 
Duke  of  Milan,  was  one  Vincenzo  Foppa,  whose  art  was 
founded  upon  that  of  the  antique-loving  Squarcione, 
creator  of  the  great  school  of  Padua — Squarcione,  collector 
of  antiques,  who  was  largely  instrumental  in  creating  the 
academic  desire  to  copy  antique  art.  Lombardy,  'tis  true, 
had  had  her  primitives  before  Foppa,  mere  mediocrities  of 
Giottesques,  yet,  by  reason  of  their  being  Giottesques, 
steeped  in  the  Florentine  atmosphere  of  Tuscany  rather 
than  what  one  might  have  expected,  the  rich-hued  art  of 
neighbouring  Venice  to  their  immediate  east,  strangely 
enough,  since  the  Venetians  were  of  the  north,  and 
separated  as  were  the  Lombards,  from  middle  Italy  by 
Italy's  backbone  of  the  Apennines. 

Foppa  was  a  fine  colourist,  and  his  art  showed  wide 
advance  on  the  Milanese  painters  of  his  day,  seeking  to 
state  atmospheric  values  in  silvery  harmonies  instead  of  the 
more  pattern-like  employment  of  colours  in  spaced  masses. 
In  his  later  years  he  had  the  advantage  of  seeing  the  work 
of  the  great  architect  Bramante,  who  was  also  a  painter, 
and  had  come  to  Milan  out  of  Tuscany,  still  further  bend- 
ing the  Milanese  taste  towards  Florentine  ideals  in  artistry. 
Bramante's  chief  fame  is  as  architect,  and  his  artistry  is 
rather  revealed  through  the  genius  of  his  follower  Braman- 
tino  than  by  any  of  the  very  rare  paintings  by  his  own 
hand  that  have  survived. 

Foppa  painted  a  large  number  of  frescoes  in  Milan  and 
its  neighbourhood,  but  they  have  perished.     The  National 
160 


OF   PAINTING 


Gallery    in     London    has,    however,    a    large    panel,    the  WHEREIN 
Adoration    of  the  Magi^    by   him,    which    is    an    important  WE    SEE 
painting  long  attributed  to  Bramantino,  but  now  considered  THE 
as  characteristic  of  Foppa.  MIGHTY 

Foppa's  pupil,  Ambrogio  da  Fossano,  better  known  as  t  T^pvxTARpjrw 
BoRGOGNONE  (bom  about  1450  and  dying  in  1523),  showed  .^_.    VFNTI 
also  the  subtle  sense  of  cool,  grey  harmonies,  and  his  art  CREATE 
has    the    distinction    that    comes   of  deep  spirituality   and  THE 
tenderness,  wrought  with  a  sense  of  beauty.  SCHOOL 

Foppa  and   Borgognone   both,  in  the  fulness  of  their  OF   MILAN 
powers,   fell   under   the   wizardry  of  Leonardo   da   Vinci's 
commanding  genius.     Borgognone's  greatest  works  are  to 
be    seen    in    Milan    and    Pavia.       His    greatest    pupil  was 
Bernardino  Luini. 

Another  pupil  of  Foppa  who  came  to  distinction  was 
Bartolommeo  Suardi  (1450- 1 526  ?),  who  afterwards  went 
to  the  great  architect  and  painter  Bramante,  whence  he 
came  to  be  known  by  the  name  of  Bramantino.  His  art 
sometimes  rises  to  great  heights,  but  he  was  a  most  unequal 
painter.  On  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  departure  from  Milan  in 
1499,  ^^  ^^s  Bramantino  who  most  influenced  the  further 
achievement  of  Milan,  and  both  his  pupil  Gaudenzio 
Ferrari  and  Luini  owed  heavy  tribute  to  him.  Unfor- 
tunately, his  frescoes  at  the  Vatican  were  destroyed  by  order 
of  Pope  Julius  II.,  to  make  way  for  Raphael. 

Others  of  Foppa's  pupils  who  came  to  repute  were 
ViNCENzo  CivERCHio  of  Crcma,  Bernardino  de'  Conti  of 
Pavia,  Bernardino  Buttinone,  and  Bernardo  Zenale. 

Of  Macrino  d'Alba  little  is  known,  except  that  he  was 
painting  in  Milan  when  Foppa  was  the  great  painter  of  the 
city ;  a  few  of  the  works  of  his  hand  are  to  be  seen 
in  Alba,  his  native  town,  in  the  Certosa  of  Pavia,  and 
in  Turin. 

VOL.  I — X  161 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Andrea  da  Solario,  born  about   1460,  and  dying  in 

GOLDEN         i^i^    (who,   by   the   way,   must   not  be   confounded  with 
■^GE  Antonio  da  Solario,  more  famous  as  Lo  Zingaro),  was  born 

at  Solario  by  Milan,  and  went  with  his  elder  brother  and 
master,  Christofano,  to  Venice  in  1490,  where  he  became 
a  follower  of  the  Vivarini  School  of  Venice.  Of  this 
Venetian  period  his  Portrait  of  a  Senator,  in  the  National 
Gallery  in  London,  is  an  example.  Three  years  later 
(1493)  Solario  went  back  to  Milan,  and  immediately  came 
under  the  spell  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  This,  his  later 
work,  is  seen  at  its  best  in  the  Poldi-Pezzoli  Museum  at 
Milan. 

Of  the  men  of  this  time,  amongst  whom  perhaps  the 
ablest  were  Filippo  Mazzola  of  Parma,  who  caught  much 
of  the  Venetian  influence,  and  the  two  Tacconi,  was  an 
artist  from  Cremona,  one  Boccaccio  Boccaccino  (1460- 
1524),  who  combined  the  Lombard  and  Venetian  styles 
with  considerable  skill;  his  gaiety  of  colour,  his  poetic 
landscape,  and  his  best  qualities  are  displayed  in  his  fine 
Marriage  of  St.  Catherine  at  the  Academy  in  Venice. 

So  far,  the  Milanese  contemporaries  of  Leonardo  are 
seen  to  have  passed  completely  under  Leonardo's  influence. 
The  school  that  Leonardo  founded  by  direct  teaching 
brought  forth  a  more  or  less  brilliant  group  of  pupils,  but 
whose  art  cannot  be  said  to  have  reached  to  the  highest 
achievement.  The  most  prominent  were  Giovanni  An- 
tonio BoLTRAFFio  (1467-1516),  Marco  d'Oggiono  or 
d'Oggionno  (born  about  1470,  died  1530),  Cesare  da 
Sesto  (1477-1523),  Salaino,  Gianpetrino,  and  Melzi 
— that  Melzi  who  went  with  his  master  into  France. 
They  caught  the  tricks  of  thumb,  the  manner  and  style  of 
their  great  master,  but  of  his  genius  they  could  secure  little. 
They  ran  to  exhaustive  finish,  and  their  aim  was  prettiness ; 
162 


OF   PAINTING 


they  had  small  vision  for  character;    and  they  were  not  WHEREIN 
above   tediousness.       But    Boltraffio   came   to    considerable  WE   SEE 
distinction  as  portrait  painter ;  and  his  Head  of  Christ,  in  THE 
the    Morelli    collection    at    Bergamo,    reveals    his    highest  MIGHTY 
reach  of  achievement.     He  had  brilliant  colour  if  some-  y  ^i-JxTTVRnn 
what  hard  in  its  brilliancy.    He  who  looks  upon  Boltraffio's  ^.    viNCT 
Madonna  and  Child  in   the   National    Gallery   in    London,  rRRATE 
must    be    struck    by    the    overwhelming     influence    that  -pHE 
Leonardo  exerted  upon  Boltraffio's  vision,  for  the  pupil  sees  SCHOOL 
the  Virgin's  features  through   Leonardo's    borrowed   spec-  OF   MILAN 
tacles.     Indeed,  the  whole  group  of  these  painters  may  be 
aptly  described  as  fine  Leonardesques.      Melzi  had  much  of 
the  refined  quality  of  a  miniaturist ;  Salaino  had  exquisite 
delicacy  of  handling  ;  d'Oggiono  had  a  somewhat  bizarre 
sense   of  beauty ;    Cesare   da  Sesto   a   feminine   sweetness ; 
Marco  d'Oggiono  is  very  fully  represented   in  the   public 
and   private   collections   at   Milan.      At   least   they  served 
their  great  master  one  vast  good  turn  by  their  many  copies 
of  Leonardo's  lost  or  perished  works,  thereby   leaving  us 
a  clumsy   idea  of  what  these  perished  works  might  have 
been  like. 

LUINI 

i475?-i532 

Of  Leonardo's  followers,  as  apart  from  his  directly 
taught  pupils,  one  of  the  most  attractive  artists  was 
Bernardino  Luini  (1475  ?-i532))  even  though  he  lack 
force. 

Born  at  Luini,  on  the  Lago  Maggiore,  Bernardino 
Luini  studied  his  craft  under  Borgognone,  from  whom  he 
caught  a  spiritual  sense  which  gave  forth  dreamy  serenity 
and  mystic  charm,  wedded  to  a  feeling  for  beauty  of  a 
winsome  and  tender  quality  displayed  in  his  many  works  in 
fresco  and  oils.     But  Luini,  like  all  the  Milanese  painters, 

163 


A   HISTORY 


THE  fell  at  last  under  the  compelling  influence  of  Leonardo,  and, 

GOLDEN         without   the  force  to   be   benefited   by  converse   with  the 

AGE  great,  he  became  thenceforth  little  more  than  an  imitator 

of  the  other,  wholly  lost  his  own  vision,  and  sank  into  a 

Leonardesque. 

Of  his  large  and  most  important  works — and  he  was  a 
prolific  painter — the  frescoes  from  the  Villa  Felucca,  mostly 
now  in  the  Brera  at  Milan  and  in  the  Louvre,  though 
several  were  in  the  Kann  collection,  are  the  finest 
examples  of  his  earlier  and  personal  art,  showing  his  gifts 
at  their  full,  at  the  same  time  betraying  his  wonted  lack  of 
cohesion  in  composing.  Of  his  later  Leonardesque  years, 
the  Christ  disputing  with  the  Doctors  or  Christ  arguing  with 
the  Pharisees  in  the  National  Gallery  is  a  typical  example, 
and  was  long  attributed  to  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

Luini  reached  to  brilliancy  in  his  frescoes,  employing 
rich  and  luminous  colour,  that  utters  well  his  joy  in  youth. 
His  naive  grace  brought  freshness  to  religious  themes, 
as  in  his  charming  Mary  with  the  Espalier  of  Roses. 

BAZZI,  NICKNAMED  "  IL  SODOMA" 
1477  -  1549 

Of  all  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  followers,  beyond  question 
the  most  gifted  was  Bazzi,  known  from  his  flagrant  life 
by  the  grim  and  awful  name  of  "  II  Sodoma."  Bazzi,  from 
repute  (and  Vasari's  gossip  is  likely  enough  true),  gave 
himself  up  to  flagrant  and  vicious  living,  and  whether 
the  tale  of  his  transgressions  be  over-coloured  or  not,  he  at 
any  rate  by  his  eccentric,  indolent  habits,  and  above  all  by 
his  lack  of  sustained  effort,  dragged  down  his  very  remark- 
able and  great  powers  to  a  lesser  achievement  than  should 
have  been  his.  The  unequal  artistry  and  obvious  careless- 
ness of  much  of  his  work  in  his  authentic  pieces  would 
164 


OF  PAINTING 


seem  to  prove  at  least  that  the  repute  of  his  sluggish  and  WHEREIN 
uncertain  ways  is  justified.  WE   SEE 

Giovanni  Antonio  Bazzi  was  the  son  of  a  shoemaker.  THE 
Born  at  Vercelli  in   1477,  ^^  ^^^  early  apprenticed  to  an  'EIGHTY 
insignificant   painter   of  the   place,  called   Spanzotto ;    but,  ^^NIUS    OF 
whilst  still  in  his  youth,  he  wandered  to  Milan,  and,  as  a  ^.    viNCF 
consequence,  fell   under  the   spell  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci ;  CREATE 
and  was  probably  painting  in  Milan  when  catastrophe  fell  XHE 
upon  the  Ducal  house.     In  1 501,  at  twenty-four,  he  moved  SCHOOL 
southwards  and  settled  in  Siena  ;  and  it  was  at  Siena  that  OF    MILAN 
he  chiefly  created  his  masterpieces,  and  in  the  doing  brought 
back  life  to  the  decaying  art  of  that  city. 

Bazzi  had  been  at  work  in  Siena  some  six  years  when 
he  was  called  to  Rome  in  1507  by  Pope  Julius  11.,  to  paint 
a  series  of  frescoes  in  the  Stanza  della  Segnatura  of  the 
Vatican;  but  there  had  arisen  the  genius  of  a  youth  called 
Raphael,  whose  friend  he  became  ;  and  all  that  remains 
of  Bazzi's  commission  is  the  ceiling  decoration  round 
Raphael's  /oW/  in  the  room  that  Bazzi  was  to  have  painted. 
But  Rome  possesses,  in  the  Farnesina,  a  series  of  frescoes  of 
remarkable  beauty,  painted  for  the  banker  Agostino  Chigi 
when  he  again  visited  Rome  seven  years  afterwards  (15 14). 

In  the  cloisters  of  Monte  Oliveto  Maggiore,  and  in  the 
Palazzo  Pubblico  of  Siena,  are  fine  frescoes  that  show  Bazzi's 
remarkable  powers.  At  the  Uffizi  Gallery  is  his  most 
celebrated  picture,  the  St.  Sebastian  Banner. 

The  Pope  knighted  Bazzi  for  a  painting  of  Lucretia — 
which  has  vanished.  Bazzi  is  at  his  best  when  dealing 
with  simple  arrangements.  Dowered  with  an  exquisite 
feeling  for  the  beauty  of  the  nude,  he  was  always  at  his 
best  when  painting  a  single  figure,  as  in  his  ^S".  Sebastian  at 
the  Uffizi,  which  combines  a  Greek  sense  of  beauty  with 
a  pathos  that  is  wholly  Christian. 

165 


A   HISTORY 


AGE 


THE  Bazzi    created  a   considerable   school    in    Siena,   where 

GOLDEN         he   lived    his   rollicking  life  amidst  his  horses  and   many 
eccentricities. 

Raphael  placed  Bazzi  very  high  as  an  artist,  and  painted 
his  portrait  next  to  himself  in  his  famous  School  of  Athens 
fresco — the  figure  in  the  white  cap  and  gown,  long  said  to 
be  Perugino  ;   but  Perugino  was  then  a  much  older  man. 

GAUDENZIO   FERRARI 

1470?  -  1546 

The  mediocre  painter  Spanzotto  must  have  been  a  better 
teacher  than  artist  ;  from  his  studio  at  Vercelli  came  an- 
other pupil  to  Milan,  Gaudenzio  Ferrari,  born  about 
1470,  and  therefore  some  seven  years  older  than  Bazzi;  and 
he,  too,  found  a  revelation  in  the  art  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci ; 
but  he,  like  Bazzi,  was  too  virile  a  painter  to  fall  into  flat 
mimicry  and  thus  lapse  into  a  Leonardesque,  with  mere 
prettiness  as  his  aim.  Gaudenzio  had  shown  from  youth  a 
strength  and  originality,  as  in  his  paintings  at  the  Sacro 
Monte  of  Varallo,  which  stood  him  in  good  stead  ;  and  he 
never  allowed  the  stupendous  genius  of  Leonardo  to  over- 
whelm his  personal  vision.  He  painted  superb  frescoes, 
twenty-one  scenes  from  The  Life  of  Christ,  at  S.  Maria  delle 
Grazie  at  Varallo,  which  are  of  remarkable  power  ;  and 
his  frescoes  at  Vercelli  bear  witness  to  his  forceful  style 
and  personal  art. 

Of  the  two  best  followers  and  fellow-townsmen  of 
Gaudenzio,  Girolamo  Giovenone  (1490?- 15  55)  never 
came  to  Gaudenzio's  gifts,  though  a  good  colourist ;  and 
Gaudenzio's  pupil,  Bernardino  Lanini  (1511  .?-i58i),  is 
best  known  by  his  many  frescoes  in  his  native  town  of 
Vercelli  and  the  neighbourhood. 

The   whole   lake-district   of  Italy  is   rich   in  works  of 
166 


OF   PAINTING 


Leonardo's    school  ;    and    it    had   this   advantage   over   the  WHEREIN 

schools  of  Raphael  and  Michelangelo,  that  the  neo-pagan-  ^^'E   SEE 

ism   of  Rome   and   Florence   did   not   touch   the  northern  THE 

valleys  of  Lombardy ;  the  worldly  patronage  of  splendour-  EIGHTY 

loving  popes   and   cardinals  wsls   unkown  to  the  Milanese  ^Si:!Hx.PJ 
1  LEONARDO 

^"^^^^^-  DA   VINCI 

CREATE 

THE    LATER    SIENESE    SCHOOL  ™^^. 

oLHOOL 
We  have  seen  how  the  art  of  the  Itahan  Renaissance  OF  MILAN 
had  arisen  rather  in  Siena  than  in  Florence,  brought  to 
birth  by  the  genius  of  Duccio.  But,  astounding  as  was 
its  early  strength,  as  seen  in  its  development  in  the  hands 
of  Simone  Martini,  Segna,  the  Lorenzetti,  the  Golden 
Age  of  art  in  Siena  had  early  passed,  flown  by  1400,  with 
the  Lorenzetti  and  the  conquering  force  of  Florence. 
Thenceforth  Sienese  art  had  moved  along  in  the  tradition 
it  had  created  for  itself,  with  Tuscan  influence  entering  into 
it.  It  had  produced  Vecchietta,  Sassetta,  Matteo  di 
Giovanni  (1435  ?-i495,  by  far  the  greatest  of  them), 
Benvenuto  da  Siena,  Neroccio  di  Landi,  and  Bernardino 

FUNGAI. 

Fungai's  two  pupils,  Jacopo  Pacchiarotto  (1474- 1540) 
and  GiROLAMO  del  Pacchia  (born  in  1477  ^"^  living  in 
1535),  came  under  the  influence  of  Raphael  and  Fra  Bar- 
tolommeo  ;  but  of  these  the  arrival  in  Siena  of  Bazzi 
turned  the  art  of  Girolamo  del  Pacchia  into  the  new 
manner  created  by  Bazzi  under  the  influence  of  Leonardo 
da  Vinci,  as  indeed  Bazzi's  arrival  influenced  the  further, 
if  short-lived,  endeavour  of  Siena. 

Bazzi  revealed  their  art  to  the  architect  and  painter  Bal- 
DASSARE  Peruzzi  (1481-1537)  and  to  DoMENico  Beccafumi 
(1485-1551),  who  is  celebrated  as  the  designer  of  the  famous 

167 


PAINTING 


THE  pavement  of  Siena  Cathedral.     There  had  come  to  Siena  in 

GOLDEN  I  ^03,  two  years  after  Bazzi,  the  Umbrian  painter,  famed  as 

^^^  Pinturicchio,  to  begin  his  great  frescoes  in  the  Library  of 

the  Duomo,  and  to  Pinturicchio  became  assistant  Baldassare 
Peruzzi,  who  later  thereafter  became  a  follower  of  Raphael. 
Thus  Sienese  art  lost  all  its  character,  and  passed  into 
and  became  a  part  of  the  art  of  the  later  Renaissance  as 
Florence  and  Rome  created  it.  Just  as  Siena  became  over- 
whelmed by  her  greater  rival  Florence,  so  her  exquisite, 
tender,  decorative  sense  in  art,  her  sense  of  elegance  and 
human  beauty,  more  passionate  but  less  disciplined  than 
the  art  of  Florence,  passing  into  a  mere  aim  of  beauty, 
roused  again  for  a  brief  effort  under  the  shadow  of  Bazzi, 
and  collapsed  under  the  eventual  and  overwhelming  outburst 
that  created  the  giants  in  Florence  ;  at  the  same  time  she 
infected  the  Umbrian  School  and  greatly  influenced  the 
Golden  Age. 


168 


HILLS 


CHAPTER    XXI 

WHEREIN    WE   SEE   ART   FLIT   INTO   THE 
UMBRIAN   HILLS 

We  now  come  to  the  stupendous  achievement  of  Florence  WHEREIN 
in  the  fifteen-hundreds,  and  we  shall  find  a  strange  element  WE  SEE 
enter  thereinto  that  Florence  has  not  before  known.  ART  FLIT 

Florentine  art  was  to  reach  to  its  complete  grandeur  in  ^^■'^^  THE 
the  genius  of  Michelangelo  ;  but  Michelangelo  was  not 
to  stand  alone,  pure  Florentine  though  he  was  in  his 
achievement.  There  was  to  enter  into  the  art  of  Florence 
another  influence,  quite  alien  to  her  spirit ;  and  the  invasion 
was  to  come  from  out  the  sunny  genius  of  Venice — diluted 
and  simplified,  it  is  true — nevertheless,  in  its  love  of  golden 
colours,  Venetian  at  its  source. 

To  the  warmth  of  colour  that  came  with  Piero  di 
Cosimo  and  Era  Bartolommeo  out  of  Cosimo  RosselH's 
studio,  came  also  light  warm  airs  blowing  from  the  south. 

If  you  shall  turn  to  the  map  of  Italy,  It  will  be  seen 
that  in  Tuscany,  Siena  lies  due  south  of  Florence.  To  the 
south  of  Tuscany,  where  her  southern  borders  reach  towards 
the  Apennines,  lies  Umbria  amongst  the  hills. 

The  Umbrlan  towns  were  to  create  an  art  very  different 
from  that  of  Florence — dlff^erent  In  spirit,  in  significance, 
in  handling  and  treatment — as  different  as  was  the  art  of 
Siena  and  akin  to  the  art  of  Siena.  To  understand  the 
achievement  of  this  school,  and  of  its  supreme  genius 
Raphael,  it  Is  well  to  trace  its  growth  and  its  blossoming. 

Painting   in   Umbria  arose  in  a  miniaturist,  famed  in 


VOL.   I- 


169 


A   HISTORY 

Dante*s  day,  one  Oderigo  or  Oderisi  ;  and  careful  finish 
and  flat  brilliancy,  wedded  to  smiling  gaiety  of  colour, 
became  the  utterance  of  the  tribe.  One  of  his  pupils  was 
GuiDO  Palmerucci  (i 280-1 345),  whose  pupil  Martino 
Nelli,  a  mediocre  fellow,  became  father  to  the  chief  painter 
of  this  early  Umbrian  achievement,  Ottaviano  di  Martino 
Nelli.  Of  about  Nelli's  day  were  the  brothers  Giacomo 
and  Lorenzo  da  Sanseverino,  whose  younger  kinsman 
Lorenzo  da  Sanseverino  ii.  was  painting  as  late  as  1496. 
Allegretto  Nuzi,  known  as  Gritto  da  Fabriano,  pre- 
pared the  way  for  the  genius  of  that  Umbrian  town  of 
Fabriano  in  the  person  of  Gentile  di  Niccolo  di  Giovanni 
Massi,  known  to  fame  as  Gentile  da  Fabriano. 

GENTILE   DA   FABRIANO 

1360  -  1428 

The  Umbrian  School  was  an  offspring  of  the  Sienese, 
which  we  have  already  seen,  under  Duccio,  greatly  affected 
early  Florentine  endeavour,  to  fall  away  from  Florence 
again  into  an  achievement  wholly  apart.  As  the  art  of 
Umbria  was  to  be  akin  to  the  art  of  Siena,  so  we  have  the 
people  of  Perugia  akin  to  the  people  of  Siena — pietistic, 
passionate,  hotly  emotional,  quick  to  love  or  hate.  Perugia, 
too,  was  torn  with  the  quarrels  of  the  factions — the  savage 
and  brutal  feuds  of  the  Oddi  and  Baglioni — at  war  with 
Assisi,  exhausted  at  last  by  discord.  Art  revealed  itself  to 
Umbria  towards  the  close  of  the  thirteen-hundreds  through 
the  personality  and  genius  of  Gentile  da  Fabriano  (1360- 
1428),  and,  above  all,  in  his  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  at  the 
Academy  in  Florence,  which  has  all  the  freshness  of  youth, 
gay  and  debonair  colour,  and  blithe  narrative,  and  in  his 
Madonna  in  Glory  at  the  Brera  in  Milan. 

Now  Gentile  da  Fabriano  had  been  to  Venice,  and 
170 


OF   PAINTING 


there  had  worked  with  his  friend  Pisanello,  of  Verona,  the  WHEREIN 
famed  engraver  of  medals,  a  superb  draughtsman,  and  quick  WE   SEE 
of  eve,  who  was  the  first  ItaUan  to  catch  and  hold  and  truly  ART   FLIT 
g-ive  forth  the  movements  of  animals.     From   the    Rhine  ^^-'-'^    irtii 

u   J  ^r     ■         u     .  .u         •   .      u  A       UMBRIAN 

had  come  to  Venice,  about  1450,  the  pamter  Roger  van  der 

Weyden,  who  saw  and  sang  the  praises  of  Pisanello  and 
Gentile  da  Fabriano,  seeing  in  them  both  gifts  akin  to  his 
own.  How  much  of  Gothic  joy  in  nature  and  love  of  life 
the  great  Northerner  gave  to  them,  and  how  much  of 
Venetian  colour  and  pomp  and  circumstance  he  took  back 
with  him  to  Flanders,  who  may  tell  ?  Verona,  too,  was  in 
close  touch  with  the  Court  of  Burgundy  ;  indeed,  as  early 
as  1400,  Philip  the  Bold  had  bought  Italian  medals.  The 
forerunners  of  the  Van  Eycks,  even  Hubert  Van  Eyck 
himself,  learned  many  lessons  from  Venice  and  the  northern 
cities  near  the  lagoons  ;  but  their  travels  thereto  had  brought 
Flemish  art  also  into  Italy. 

Gentile  da  Fabriano  seemed  destined  to  rise  and  achieve 
his  blithe  record  of  the  bright  and  pleasant  life  of  his  day, 
and  to  die,  and  Umbrian  art  to  die  with  him,  scarce  stepping 
out  of  its  half-Gothic  beginnings,  and  his  joy  of  life  and 
glorious  colour  to  be  doomed  to  arouse  no  further  achieve- 
ment amongst  the  Umbrian  hills.  Lorenzo  da  San  Severing 
seems  alone  to  have  come  to  any  distinction  after  him.  But 
there  came  to  the  Umbrian  towns,  above  all  to  Perugia, 
some  impetus  that,  in  the  latter  half  of  the  fourteen-hundreds, 
created  a  school  of  painting  wholly  unlike  that  of  Florence. 
Already  stimulated  by  the  blithe  and  colourful  genius  of 
Venice,  through  Gentile  da  Fabriano,  Umbria  took  to  her- 
self something  of  the  Sienese  tradition,  and  uttered  herself 
with  a  suave  and  generous  faculty  of  colour  and  emotion 
in  marked  contrast,  as  though  in  deliberate  challenge,  to 
the  austere  grace  of  the  Florentines.     Fresh  of  vision,  poetic 

171 


A   HISTORY 


THE  and  splendid,  with  something  of  Sienese  limitation  in  the 

GOLDEN         range  of  their  art,  the  Umbrians  frankly  passed  by  the  in- 
AGE  tellectual  and  tragic  grandeur  of  the  genius  of  Florence. 

There  had  come  to  Orvieto  with  Fra  Angelico,  as  his 
assistant,  Benozzo  Gozzoli ;  and  Benozzo  Gozzoli  stayed 
behind  and  worked  amongst  the  Umbrian  cities.  He 
brought  new  spirit  into  the  declining  life  of  Umbrian 
painting ;  revealing  the  more  colourful  side  of  the  Florentine 
genius  to  Benedetto  Bonfigli  (i425?-i496),  Niccolo  da 
Foligno  (1430  ?- 1 502),  and  Fiorenzo  di  Lorenzo  (1440- 
1522).  Of  these,  Benedetto  Bonfigli  was  clearly  indebted  to 
Lorenzo  da  San  Severino,  through  one  Giovanni  Boccatis  ; 
born  in  Perugia,  where  most  of  his  work  is  to  be  seen, 
he  caught  from  Benozzo  Gozzoli  his  taste  for  painting 
into  his  works  the  facts  and  habits  of  the  life  of  his  day. 
Benozzo  Gozzoli's  influence  is  even  more  marked  in  the 
art  of  Niccolo  da  Foligno ;  but  in  him  was  strongly 
developed  that  sincere  and  marked  emotionalism  of  the 
Umbrian  and  Sienese  schools,  exaggerated  from  the  tender- 
ness and  gentleness  typical  of  these  schools  into  more  violent 
passion.  In  was,  however,  in  Fiorenzo  di  Lorenzo  that 
Perugia  found  her  first  master  of  mark,  though  little  is 
known  of  his  life,  and  he  is  only  mentioned  by  Vasari, 
unnamed,  as  Perugino's  first  master.  Whether,  as  his  work 
would  seem  to  show,  he  learnt  his  craft  under  Benedetto 
Bonfigli,  and  afterwards  came  under  the  influence  of  Benozzo 
Gozzoli  and  then  of  Antonio  Pollaiuolo,  or  not,  he  reveals 
a  vision  for  depth  of  atmosphere  and  for  painting  his  land- 
scape backgrounds  in  tune  with  his  figures,  perhaps  com- 
pelled upon  his  eyes  by  the  clear  air  of  the  Umbrian  hills, 
which  were  to  have  such  a  marked  eff^ect  on  the  style  of 
Perugino  and  the  Umbrian  School.  He  had,  besides,  a 
firm  grip  of  character,  and  a  strong  feeling  for  creating  it. 
172 


OF   PAINTING 


Fiorenzo  is  seen  at  his  best  in  his  Annunciation  upon  the  WHEREIN 

wall   of  the   church    of  S.   Maria  degli   Angeli  at  Assisi,  WE   SEE 

and   in    The  Nativity  and   Adoration   of  the  Magi^  and   the  ART   FLIT 

small  lunette,  amongst  several  paintings,  at  the  Gallery  in  ^^TO   THE 

Perugia.  UMBRIAN 

•  HI  I  LS 
Fiorenzo's  most  brilliant  pupils,  Pietro  Vannucci  and 

Bernardino  di  Betto,  were  to  be  known  in   after  years  as 

Perugino  and  Pinturicchio,  who  developed  their  master's 

fine  style   and  brought  immortal  fame  to  the  picturesque 
hill-city  of  Umbria. 

PERUGINO 

1446     -     1523 

Pietro  Vannucci,  to  become  world-renowned  as 
Perugino,  was  born  in  1446  in  a  small  mountain-town 
of  Umbria,  called  Citta  della  Pieve,  near  by  Perugia.  One 
of  a  large  and  very  poor  family,  Pietro  Vannucci  was 
sent  off,  a  mere  child  of  nine,  to  the  studio  of  Fiorenzo 
di  Lorenzo  in  Perugia,  to  learn  the  craft  and  mystery  of 
painting,  wherefore  his  name  of  "  il  Perugino."  Grown  to 
youth,  he  went  to  Florence  to  complete  his  training,  and 
thus  came  to  work  side  by  side  with  Leonardo  da  Vinci  in 
the  workship  of  Verrocchio. 

Perugino  early  rose  to  repute,  and  his  work  to  wide 
demand ;  he  was  soon  so  overwhelmed  with  orders  that 
he  could  not  even  attempt  to  carry  out  many  of  them, 
though  he  had  workshops  both  in  Florence  and  Perugia, 
employing  a  large  number  of  pupils  and  assistants.  This 
accounts  for  much  in  the  limitation  of  Perugino's  promise, 
for  Perugino  was  an  astoundingly  prolific  worker;  his  art 
inevitably  sufi^ered  both  from  the  wide  demand  for  it  and 
his  rapid  production.  Pressed  by  his  popularity,  he  repeated 
the  same  types  until  he  wrecked  the  freshness  and  allure  of 

173 


A   HISTORY 


THE  his  design ;   he  as  inevitably  became  mannered  to  affecta- 

GOLDEN         tion,  and  ended  in  being  wearisome.      It  is  easy  to  under- 
AGE  stand  a  virile  and  dramatic  artist  of  stupendous  genius  like 

Michelangelo  speaking  with  contempt  of  Perugino  as  "  that 
blockhead  {goffo)  in  art,"  in  the  presence  of  the  stream  of 
work  which  poured  out  in  his  later  years  from  his  hand ; 
indeed,  from  the  year  1500  his  art  rapidly  deteriorated. 
But  Perugino's  best  work  is  of  very  high  achievement.  It 
has  been  said  that  his  art  is  rarely  inspired;  and  perhaps 
this  is  so — the  effort  to  appear  inspired  is  so  dogged  and 
insistent;  but  he  uttered  most  exquisitely  and  subtly  a 
mystic  and  idealistic  note  that  is  the  very  soul  of  the 
Umbrian  character,  and  is  rarely  wholly  absent  from  his 
devotional  paintings — and  he  uttered  it  as  no  other  painter 
ever  did.  His  art  knows  no  struggles  of  the  soul ;  it  is 
serene,  contemplative,  with  a  sense  of  dignity  that  is  not 
without  impressiveness,  though  it  is  tinged  with  the  formal 
acceptance  of  the  ideals  of  the  devout.  The  presence  of 
the  Madonna  rouses  in  him  a  sweet  and  tender  regard; 
she  appears  ever  as  one  held  by  a  surprise  of  wonder 
that  she,  the  wife  of  a  well-to-do  burgess  of  the  city  of 
Perugia,  should  have  been  chosen  as  the  mother  of  God. 
Of  dramatic  sense  he  had  none;  and  his  figures  thereby 
know  little  action — they  are  thrilled  with  no  human 
passions,  know  no  suffering,  but  rather  give  forth  a 
fragrance  that  is  sweetly  devotional — they  know  the 
peace  of  a  quiet  and  undisturbed  mind.  A  certain  and 
unquestioning  creed,  taught  by  the  tradition  of  the  big 
church  in  the  town,  holds  them ;  and  serenity  exhales 
like  incense  from  the  works  of  his  skill.  "  Fervour,  not 
faith,"  it  has  been  said,  *'  is  the  keynote  of  Perugino's  art  " ; 
but  Perugino  was  almost  incapable  of  so  much  artistic 
violence    even    as    fervour — the    fragrance    of    his    art    is 


OF   PAINTING 

of  a  more  subtle  and  elusive  kind,  which  is  perhaps  best  WHEREIN 
expressed   by  such  a   phrase   as   the   sense   of  peacefulness  WE   SEE 
aroused  bv  an  oft-repeated  prayer  or  hymn  of  praise.  ARl    bLll 

Michelangelo's  was  a  hard  saying,  but  it  was  the  con-  rj^/ruriTAM 
tempt  of  a  world-force,  of  a  very  tornado,  for  a  still  lake.  Trrr  ^  c 
rerugino  s  instinct  lor  airy  composition  gives  largeness  to 
his  design,  and  greatly  enhances  the  serenity  of  mood  that 
was  his  eternal  aim  and  delight ;  and  the  beautiful,  gem- 
like transparency  of  his  colour  further  enhances  his  exquisite 
sense  of  reverie  and  sweet  ecstasies.  Perugino  created  for 
the  soul  a  resting-place  peopled  with  mild  and  saintly 
beings,  where  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  the  world  are 
not  thrust  upon  the  attention,  but  only  as  an  echo  float  in 
the  air  like  an  ethereal  whisper.  The  worldly  folk  receive 
no  shock  of  admonition — no  hint  of  the  day  of  wrath,  nor, 
indeed,  of  the  end  of  days. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  colour-scheme  of  Perugino's 
paintings  is  nearly  always  dominated  by  blue — a  limpid 
blue  as  of  southern  seas,  pure  and  luminous  as  the  tender 
blue  of  still  waters,  which  he  employs  with  strange  allure 
to  arouse  a  tense  sense  of  serenity.  And  he  ever  sets  his 
beautiful  contemplative  Madonnas  and  rapt  saints  against 
a  serene  mountain  landscape,  under  a  luminous  peaceful 
blue  of  the  high  heavens  that  melt  away  into  an  horizon  of 
cool  pallor  as  of  the  glassy  shallows  of  a  pool,  to  meet  the 
pale  blue  of  the  distant  mountains  in  the  leagues  beyond  at 
the  edge  of  the  hushed  world. 

The  National  Gallery  in  London  possesses  a  superb 
example  of  his  art  at  its  highest  achievement — the  triptych 
(or  triple  picture)  of  The  Virgin  adoring  the  Infant  Christy 
with  the  wing  panels  of  the  Archangel  Michael ,  and  the  Arch- 
angel Raphael  and  the  young  Tobias ,  which  was  once  part  of 
an  altarpiece  in  the  Certosa  at  Pavia,  but,  being  replaced  by 


A   HISTORY 


THE  a  copy  there,  this  once  votive  offering  against  blindness  was 

GOLDEN         sold  to  the  National  Gallery  by  the  Melzi  family  of  Milan. 

AGE  At  the  Louvre  is  a  very  beautiful  circular  picture,  or  tondo, 

of  the  Virgin  and  Child  with  Saints  and  Angels. 

Of  Perugino's  many  pupils  there  v^as  one  that  came  to 
him  in  Perugia  v^^ho  was  destined  to  immortal  fame — a 
handsome  youth  of  seventeen  years,  whom  they  called 
Raphael  Sanzio,  but  whom  all  men  now  call  Raphael. 
When  the  youth  came  to  him  in  1500,  Perugino  was  at 
the  very  height  of  his  career  and  reputation ;  the  master 
was  soon  to  see  his  pupil  preferred  before  him,  rising  by 
leaps  to  the  giddiest  heights  of  public  acclaim — and  Perugino 
suffering  much  travail  of  heart  thereby. 

Whilst  at  work  on  a  fresco  at  Fontignano  in  the 
February  of  1523,  his  fame  wholly  dimmed  by  his  pupil's 
splendour,  though  that  pupil  was  already  dead  some  three 
years  gone  by,  Perugino  caught  the  plague  and  died.  It  is 
interesting  to  know  that  this  fresco  on  which  his  hand  was 
busy  when  death  took  him  in  his  seventy-seventh  year  is 
now  at  the  National  Gallery  in  London. 

There  is  something  fantastic  in  the  pietism  of  Perugino's 
art  amidst  a  world  rapidly  falling  into  scepticism  and  social 
corruption  ;  yet  there  is  a  sense  of  formalism  in  that  art 
which  gives  hint  of  the  painting  that  is  "  lucrative." 

Perugino's  keen  eye  for  the  money-bags  early  taught 
him  that  eyes  raised  in  ecstasy  of  sweet  adoration,  the 
upturned  oval  face,  the  head  swung  in  humility  of  tender- 
ness towards  the  shoulder,  the  exquisitely  and  daintily-robed 
figures,  would  win  his  art  to  the  walls  of  the  convent  and 
the  palace.  But  when  he  came  to  paint  the  Greek  or 
Roman  legend,  or  history  of  antique  days,  his  pietistic 
sentimentality  betrayed  its  limits — it  fitted  ill  a  Cato  who 
held  liberty  above  life.  Like  many  of  the  pietistic,  his 
176 


OF  PAINTING 


body  held  a  sordid  soul.     His  hard  face  does  not  belie  him.  WHEREIN 

Unfaithful,    money-grubbing,  dastardly  in  vengeance — he  WE  SEE 

found  the  pietistic  to  pay,  so  he  created  pietisms.     In  the  ART  FLIT 

December  of  i486  he  hired  a  notorious  assassin,  Aulista  di  ^'^  ^^    iMii 

A        1       fp         •         A  ■       u-        ir   1  .  UMBRIAN 

Angelo  ot  rerugia,  and,  armmg  himself  also,  set  out  to  way-  tttt  t  o 

lay  and  beat  an  enemy  near  S.  Pietro  Maggiore  at  Florence. 

The  tale  of  the  Church  refusing  his  body  burial  after  death 

was  as  likely  enough  due  to  panic  of  the  plague — of  which 

he  died — though  the  story  goes  that  he  refused  to  confess 

as  he  lay  dying,  vowing  that  he  wished  to  know  how  an 

unrepentant  soul  would  fare  in  the  other  world. 

Marrying  a  beautiful  girl,  he  loved  to  dress  her  out  in 
fine  array  and  costly  jewellery  with  his  own  hands.  He 
treated  Art  as  a  trade — sought  and  obtained  a  large  amount 
of  orders,  which  his  two  great  workshops  and  many 
apprentices  turned  out  wholesale,  and  he  thereby  came 
to  considerable  estate.  He  suffered  bitter  jealousy  of 
Michelangelo  and  his  young  pupil  Raphael ;  indeed,  there 
is  something  pathetic  in  the  grey-haired  old  man  retiring 
from  Rome  to  make  place  for  the  gifted  boy  Raphael. 
But  it  seems  to  have  made  no  difference  to  the  demand  for 
his  works. 

PINTURICCHIO 
1454      -      1513^ 

From  the  studio  of  this  same  Fiorenzo  di  Lorenzo's 
came  also  another  pupil  who  was  to  know  a  wide  fame. 
Bernardino  di  Betto,  to  become  celebrated  as  Pinturicchio 
or  Pintorichio,  the  "  little  painter,"  was  born  in  Perugia  in 
1454,  and  was  therefore  eight  years  younger  than  Perugino. 
Being  sent  as  pupil  to  Fiorenzo,  he  rapidly  came  to  the 
front,  and  seems  to  have  passed  into  Perugino's  workshop 
in  Perugia  as  his  manager  or  foreman.  By  twenty-six  he 
was  engaged,  together  with  Perugino,  for  about  three  years 
VOL.  I — z  177 


A   HISTORY 


THE  in  decorating  the  Sistine  Chapel  at  Rome,  painting  therein 

GOLDEN        his   frescoes   of  the   Journey  of  Moses   and  the  Baptism  of 

AGE  Christ,  in   which  Baptism  of  Christ  he  shows  the  marked 

influence  of  Perugino,  as  seen  in  Perugino's  Baptism  of  Christ 

at   the   Rouen   Museum.     Pinturicchio  was  afflicted  with 

deafness. 

At  Rome,  Pinturicchio  won  to  great  favour,  and  was 
engaged  upon  and  painted  a  large  number  of  important 
works,  of  which  were  the  famous  frescoes  in  the  Bufalim 
Chapel  of  the  Church  of  Ara  Cceii,  the  frescoes  in  the  Colonna 
Palace,  and  the  frescoes  in  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  del 
Popolo.  About  1 49 1  he  started  upon  the  decoration  of 
the  Borgia  Rooms  in  the  Vatican  for  the  Borgian  Pope 
Alexander  vi.  Pinturicchio  was  back  in  Perugia  again 
by  1500,  when  the  youth  Raphael,  at  seventeen,  entered 
Perugino's  workshop  there,  and  his  art  greatly  influenced 
the  eager  and  sensitive  young  fellow. 

It  was  in  1502,  Pinturicchio's  forty-eighth  year,  when 
at  the  height  of  his  maturity  and  powers  and  in  the  full 
utterance  of  his  exquisite  colour  faculty,  that  he  began  his 
superb  series  of  frescoes  for  Cardinal  Francesco  Piccolomini 
in  the  Library  of  the  Cathedral  at  Siena  of  the  Lfe  of 
Aeneas  Silvius  Piccolomini,  who  had  reigned  as  Pope  Pius  11., 
on  which  Pinturicchio  was  employed  for  five  years,  until 

Shortly  after  completing  these  great  frescoes,  Pinturicchio 
painted  the  famous  and  far-famed  Return  of  Ulysses  to 
Penelope,  now  at  the  National  Gallery  in  London,  wrought 
in  fresco,  as  a  wall  decoration  for  the  Palace  of  Pandolfo 
Petrucci  at  Siena,  but  removed  with  astounding  skill  on  to 
canvas  in  1 844,  and  bought  some  thirty  years  later  by  the 
National  Gallery. 
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OF  PAINTING 


Pinturicchio  brought  to  the  art  of  Umbria  a  rich  faculty  WHEREIN 
for  colour.  His  naive  design  has  something  fantastically  WE  SEE 
and  charmingly  primitive  in  it.  It  were  as  though  he  ART  FLIT 
harked  back  to  a  style  before  the  achievement  of  his  master  ^^  ^  U  1  iriri. 
rerugmo,  compared  w^itn  whom  he  is  in  some  ways  almost 
as  a  primitive.  He  fills  his  space  with  detail  from  end  to 
end  of  it,  yet  he  does  it  with  something  akin  to  the 
consummate  skill  of  the  East,  so  that  his  work  is  rarely 
congested  or  overloaded.  One  stands  before  it  marvelling 
that  it  escapes  confusion.  By  some  subtle  skill  of  design  he 
arrives  at  an  effect  as  of  massing,  or  that  takes  the  place  of 
masses,  who  had  no  capacity  whatever  for  massing.  It  is 
true  that  his  anatomy  and  feeling  for  form  are  vague  and 
uncertain,  but  he  has  a  sense  of  action  and  a  glowing  and 
rich  habit  of  colour  in  which  he  steeps  his  elaborate  design 
with  true  painter's  skill  that  is  much  more  Venetian  than 
Tuscan.  There  is  a  delightful  piquancy  in  the  almost 
childlike  and  uncalculated  scheme  of  that  design  ;  but  his 
unerring  instinct  wrought  consummate  design  in  all  he  did, 
scarce  knowing  what  he  did,  as  a  bird's  instinct  makes  a 
bird's  song,  regardless  of  the  laws  of  counterpoint.  It  is 
wholly  vain  to  measure  that  design  with  the  rule  and 
plummet  of  pedantic  laws,  and  complain  that  he  overcrowds 
it — he  never  afflicts  one's  senses  with  the  discomforting  im- 
pression of  overcrowding  ;  and  until  that  sense  of  ill-ease  is 
created  there  is  no  overcrowding.  A  space  may  be  over- 
crowded with  a  single  figure.  Pinturicchio  had  an  instinct 
for  design  and  for  colour  all  his  own ;  he  had  as  unerring 
an  instinct  for  landscape,  which  he  painted  with  exquisite 
vision.  He  could  never  resist  birds,  and  you  shall  ever 
find  him  bringing  one  into  his  scheme  wheresoever  he  can 
perch  one ;  the  freedom  and  airiness  of  the  life  of  singing 
birds  were  in  fact  closely  akin  to  the  airy  fancies  of  the 

179 


A   HISTORY 


THE  man's   soul — indeed,   the  flight  of  his    quick    and    blithe 

GOLDEN         invention  was  as  the  flight  of  singing  birds.      He  was  a 
AGE  very  poet  of  colour,  which  he  wrought  with  intense  lyrical 

qualities  into  an  exquisite  art. 

It  has  been  complained  of  Pinturicchio  that  he  lacked 
the  religious  emotions  and  poetic  feelings  of  Perugino.  In 
the  religious  sense  he  is  certainly  not  gifted,  if  the  devotional 
sense  of  the  Church  be  religion  ;  but  he  had  a  lyrical  sense 
which  Perugino  never  approached,  and  he  employed  the 
chief  significance  of  a  painter,  the  music  that  is  in  colour, 
with  a  skill  of  hand  which  is  astounding. 

Bookish  men  have  also  blamed  Pinturicchio  in  that  the 
colours  of  his  frescoes  are  too  rich  !  and  the  illusion  of 
plastic  life  too  complete  for  the  requirements  of  wall  decora- 
tion ! — that,  instead  of  accentuating  the  flatness  of  the  wall- 
surface,  he  aimed  at  making  his  paintings  like  glimpses  of 
life  seen  through  an  open  window  !  This  is  an  age  of 
strange  accusations.  All  painting  is  upon  flat  surfaces ;  and 
why  the  flat  surface  of  a  wall  should  not  give  forth  the 
illusion  of  depth,  any  more  than  a  flat  picture  upon  the 
wall,  is  quaint  hair-splitting.  To  thrust  aside  as  bad  art  all 
the  wall  paintings  and  huge  canvases  employed  for  wall 
paintings  that  contain  the  illusion  of  depth  and  do  not 
accentuate  the  flatness  of  the  wall,  would  mean  the  rejection 
of  some  of  the  world's  mightiest  masterpieces.  Such  laws 
are  the  veriest  fribble.  The  artist  is  not  concerned  with 
announcing  the  flatness  of  a  wall,  otherwise  the  wall  were 
better  unpainted.  It  is  the  artist's  province  to  create  the 
illusion  of  life.  And  whether  he  state  that  illusion  upon 
a  wall  in  terms  of  flatness,  or  whether  he  create  the  illusion 
of  the  roundness  of  form  here  called  the  plastic  life,  is  a 
matter  of  utter  indifference.  The  painter's  realm  is  to 
employ  colour,  and  to  accuse  him  of  employing  colour  too 
i8o 


INTO   THE 

UMBRIAN 

HILLS 


OF   PAINTING 

well  or  too  richly  is  as  though  one  said  that  Shakespeare  WHEREIN 
made  Hamlet  too  like  Hamlet.  WE  SEE 

Pinturicchio  has  another  claim  to  fame  :  he  created  the  ART   FLIT 
type  of  Madonna  that  became  the  ideal  of  Raphael,  and  is 
so  distinctive  of  Umbria. 

Strangely  enough,  though  Pinturicchio  wrought  his  art 
in  several  towns  throughout  Umbria  and  Tuscany,  and 
ranged  as  far  as  Rome,  yet  he  never  seems  to  have  set  foot 
in  Florence. 

He  brought  his  wanderings  to  a  close  towards  the  end 
of  his  life  by  settling  in  Siena,  the  scene  of  his  greatest 
triumphs  ;  and  in  Siena  he  laid  him  down  and  died,  a 
starving  and  neglected  man,  broken  in  spirit  by  the  brutal 
negligence  of  his  infamous  wife,  Grania  di  Niccolo,  whose 
intrigue  with  a  soldier  of  the  Sienese  guard  was  an  affair 
of  public  notoriety  and  shame. 

One  of  Pinturicchio's  ablest  pupils  was  Matteo  Bal- 

DUCCI. 

MANN  I 
I4..P-I544 

Besides  Raphael,  there  had  been  pupils  in  Perugino's 
workshops  who  were  to  win  to  considerable  repute. 

In  the  little  town  of  Citta  della  Pieve,  that  gave  birth 
to  Perugino,  was  also  born  Giannicola  Manni — who,  like 
Raphael,  learnt  the  craft  and  mystery  of  his  art  under 
Perugino  and  Pinturicchio,  and  who  became  assistant  to 
Perugino ;  his  earlier  work  is  steeped  in  Perugino's 
tradition. 

Manni  appears  to  have  settled  in  Perugia  and  begun 
to  work  on  his  own  account  about  1493.  ^^  ^^^^  strongly 
under  the  influence  of  his  master,  Perugino,  he  thereafter 
came  under  the  influence  of  Raphael,  Bazzi,  and  eventually, 
it  is  supposed,  Andrea  del  Sarto.      In   151 5  he  began  to 

181 


A   HISTORY 

THE  paint  his  chief  works,  the  frescoes  of  the  Sala  del  Cambio, 

GOLDEN         which,    being    wrought    in    desultory    fashion,    reveal   the 

AGE  various  changes  and  influences  which  came  over  his  later 

style.     He  was  elected  a   Decemvir  of  Perugia  in   1527, 

where  he  died  on  the  27th  of  October  1 544. 

LO  SPAGNA 

Giovanni  di  Petro,  better  known  as  Lo  Spagna  or 
Lo  Spagnolo — "  the  Spaniard  " — was  another  pupil  of  the 
same  masters  in  Perugia ;  indeed,  next  to  Raphael,  is 
Perugino's  most  distinguished  pupil.  In  his  earlier  work 
is  to  be  seen  the  strong  influence  of  his  master,  and  later 
that  of  his  fellow-student  Raphael.  Little  is  known  of 
Lo  Spagna's  life,  except  that  he  was  probably  making  his 
mark  by  1503  and  certainly  by  1507.  He  is  now  credited 
with  having  painted  the  famous  Caen  Sposalizio,  long  held 
to  be  by  Perugino.  He  was  made  a  citizen  of  Spoleto  in 
1 5 1 6,  and  the  year  after  he  was  elected  head  of  the  Society 
of  Painters  of  that  town,  and  is  known  to  have  been 
alive  in  1530.  The  Madonna  Enthronedy  painted  in  the 
year  that  he  was  made  a  citizen  of  Spoleto,  now  in  the 
chapel  of  San  Stefano  in  the  lower  church  of  San  Francesco 
at  Assisi,  is  one  of  his  best-known  works  ;  but  it  is  likely 
that  many  paintings  to-day  attributed  to  Perugino  and  to 
Raphael  in  his  youth,  are  really  the  work  of  Lo  Spagna's 
hand. 

Giovanni  Battista  Bertucci,  born  at  Faenza,  and 
working  in  the  early  years  of  the  fifteen-hundreds,  was 
reared  under  the  influence  of  the  same  masters,  Perugino 
and  Pinturicchio ;  and  his  works  were  also  wont  to  be 
given  to  Perugino  and  Pinturicchio,  or  to  Lo  Spagna. 
But  he,  like  Raphael,  came  under  the  influence  of  the 
Bologna  painters,  Costa  and  Francia,  of  the  school  of  Padua 
182 


XXIII 

RAPHAEL 

1483  -  1520 

UMBRIAN  SCHOOL 

"THE  VIRGIN  AND  CHILD  ATTENDED  BY  ST.  JOHN 

THE  BAPTIST  AND  ST.  NICHOLAS   OF   BARI" 

(Commonly  known  as  the  "  Ansidei  Madonna  ") 

(National  Gallery) 

The  Virgin  is  seated  holding  the  Infant  Christ  on  an  elevated  throne 
with  three  steps.  To  the  left  stands  St.  John  the  Baptist.  On  the  right 
stands  St.  Nicholas  of  Bari,  wearing  his  episcopal  robes  and  mitre  ;  in  the 
foreground,  at  his  feet,  are  the  three  golden  balls,  representing  the  three 
purses  of  gold,  which  are  his  attributes. 

Painted  in  oil,  on  thick,  poplar  wood  j  arched  at  the  top.  7  tt.  i  in.  h. 
X  4  ft.  ic^  in.  w.  (2"i 59  X  1-485). 


OF  PAINTING 


and  Venice.     Of   Perugino's    pupils   also   was    Francesco  WHEREIN 
Ubertini,  better  known  as  II  Bacchiacca  (1494- 1557).       WE  SEE 

We  have  seen  the  Umbrian  School  of  Painters  display-  ART   FLIT 
ing  a  rich  sense  of  colour,  and  a  style  and  significance  in  I^i^    IHE 
art,    akin    to    that   of  Venice    and    of   Siena.       They    are  H!f  ^s^^^ 
receptive    to    many    influences,    and    eagerly    adopt   them. 
They  are  inclined  to   be   what  the   pedants   call  eclectic — 
"  borrowers,"  choosers  of  the  best  out  of  everything,  makers 
of  fine    mixtures.      The   art    of  Florence   of   the   fifteen- 
hundreds  is  henceforth,  also,  to  become  "  eclectic,"  borrow- 
ing from  the  best  that  has  gone  before,  both  in  Florence  and 
in  Venice  and  in  Umbria — except  only  one  majestic  genius, 
a  very  giant,    Michelangelo,  who  stands  out  alone,  head 
and  shoulders  above  the  whole  magnificent  achievement  of 
Tuscany.     But  of  the   splendid   borrowers,   the   mightiest 
and  largest  was  Raphael,  lord  of  the  school  of  Umbria — 
indeed,  for  several  centuries  he  was  to  be  hailed  as  "  king 
of  painters." 


183 


CHAPTER     XXII 

WHEREIN  WE  WALK  WITH  RAPHAEL,  THE  RADIANT 
CHILD  OF  FORTUNE  AND  APOSTLE  OF  GRACE 

THE  There  lived,  side  by  side,  and  wrought  their  art  in  those 

GOLDEN         early    fifteen-hundreds,   Raphael    and    Michelangelo,   with 

AGE  Andrea  del  Sarto  for  splendid  company  ;  and  rounded  off 

the   significance    of   the    Renaissance    in   Tuscany    in    its 

supreme  flight  of  achievement. 

Raphael  created  little,  initiated  little,  but  he  rathei 
gathered  into  his  single  personality  the  whole  and  varied 
activities  of  the  men  who  had  gone  before  ;  and  forthwith 
selected  from  all  such  their  supreme  qualities,  and  wrought 
them  into  a  wondrous  whole,  as  though  in  him  were  to  be 
gathered  their  varied  design  that  it  might  be  given  forth 
in  a  glorious  flowering. 

Raphael  and  Michelangelo  changed  the  scene  of  the 
triumphs  of  the  Renaissance  from  Florence  to  Rome  ;  but 
Florentine  and  Umbrian  it  was,  nevertheless. 

To  understand  the  significance  of  Raphael  and  his  art, 
it  is  necessary  to  glance  back  awhile. 

The  artistic  school  of  Venice  had  thrown  out  many 
offshoots  throughout  the  north  of  Italy  ;  and  one  of  her 
colonies,  Bologna,  had  bred  a  goldsmith-painter  of  dis- 
tinction, his  name  Francia — born  in  the  mid-fourteen- 
hundreds  (1450) — who  had  founded  his  artistry  upon  the 
practice  of  Giovanni  Bellini.  In  Francia's  workshop,  first 
as  pupil,  then  as  foreman,  was  a  young  Umbrian  from 
184 


XXIV 

RAPHAEL 
1483-  1520 

UMBRIAN  SCHOOL 
'«LA  BELLE  JARDINIERE" 

(Louvre) 

The  Virgin  is  seated  in  a  flowery  meadow.  She  looks  down  to  the  left 
at  the  Infant  Jesus,  who  leans  against  her  knee  and  draws  her  attention  to 
the  little  St.  John  the  Baptist  who  kneels  to  the  right,  his  reed  cross  in  his 
right  hand. 

The  signature  seems  to  be: — "vrb.  raphaello  mdvii." 

Painted  in  oil  on  panel.     3  ft.  8  in.  x  2  ft.  7^  in.  (I'zz  x  o-8o). 


PAINTING 


Urbino,  one  Timoteo  Viti — and  out  of  this  partnership  WHEREIN 
was  to  be  born  a  strange  destiny.  WE   WALK 

WITH 
RAPHAEL  RAPHAEL, 

1483  -  1520  '^^^ 

On    the    Low    Sunday    of    1483,    which    fell    on    the  ptttt  ta   q^ 
6th   of  April,   there  was   born  in   the   Umbrian   town   of  FORTUNE 
Urbino,  to   one   Giovanni    Santi,  poet   and   painter  of  no  AND 
mean  gifts  at  the  Court  of  Guidobaldo,  Duke  of  Urbino,  APOSTLE 
and  to  Magia  Ciarla,  his  wife,  a  man-child  whom   they  OF  GRACE 
christened  Raphael  Santi,  or  Raffaelle  Sanzio,  who  was 
to  reach  to  mighty  immortality  as  Raphael. 

The  father,  Giovanni  Santi,  was  a  painter  of  consider- 
able gifts,  as  is  proved  by  his  Madonna  and  Child  at  the 
National  Gallery  in  London  ;  but  he  died  when  his  son 
was  only  eleven  years  old — the  lad's  mother  having  died 
when  he  was  eight. 

The  boy  Raphael  was  no  infant  wonder  ;  however,  he 
was  eager  to  learn,  whensoever  and  wheresoever  he  could 
find  the  chance,  and  showed  a  keen  desire  to  absorb  all 
that  came  into  his  way  from  the  very  beginning  ;  also  he 
was  endowed  with  a  prodigious  industry,  a  dogged  and 
persistent  will,  and  gave  himself  up  to  heavy  and  laborious 
training.  He  had  little  confidence  in  his  own  powers,  even 
when  well  set  into  youth.  It  is  little  likely  that  a  boy  of 
eleven,  of  no  precocious  habit,  should  have  learnt  much 
from  his  courtier  father.  It  is  said  that  his  mother  had 
that  spiritual  beauty  which  the  boy  wrought  about  his 
Madonnas  ;  but  a  boy  of  eight  would  visualise  little  of 
such  subtleties.  His  bent  tov/ards  an  artistic  career,  how- 
ever, was  likely  enough  due  to  his  father's  habits  ;  and  he 
may  have  acquired  some  little  of  his  early  training  from 
him.  He  is  said  to  have  been  much  influenced  by  the 
VOL.  I — 2  A  185 


A   HISTORY 


THE  work  of  Piero  della  Francesca,  but  to  what  degree  it  would 

GOLDEN         be  idle  to  say  to-day  ;  certainly  not  by  the  artist  himself, 
AGE  since,  though  Francesca  had   been  the  guest  of  Raphael's 

father  at  Urbino  in  1469,  it  was  fourteen  years  before 
Raphael  was  born.  His  work,  and  that  of  many  others, 
no  doubt  was  a  part  of  Raphael's  eager  "eclectic"  borrowing; 
but  an  eleven-year-old  boy's  borrowings  must  have  been  of 
the  vaguest. 

The  year  after  his  father  died — in  1495,  the  boy  R^aphael 
being  then  twelve,  Timoteo  Viti,  his  five  years  of  service 
to  Francia  at  Bologna  done,  came  back  to  Urbino,  steeped 
in  the  artistry,  and  seeing  with  the  vision,  of  Francia. 
To  him  the  boy  was  apprenticed ;  and  the  eager  lad  leaped 
to  borrow  his  craftsmanship  from  the  revelation  of  Francia 
that  Timoteo  Viti  brought  into  Umbria.  From  him  he 
learned  to  draw  the  rounded  and  opulent  forms,  and  to 
paint  the  rich  and  sensuous  colour,  so  utterly  alien  to  the 
Florentine  spirit.  At  sixteen  or  seventeen  Raphael  went 
to  Perugia  and  entered  the  studio  of  Perugino,  some  say  as 
pupil,  more  likely  as  assistant  in  the  workshop.  The  little 
St.  Michael  at  the  Louvre,  painted  for  the  Duke  Guidobaldo 
on  the  back  of  a  chessboard,  must  also  be  early  work. 
When  Raphael  went  to  Perugino's  workshop  at  Perugia, 
that  master,  overwhelmed  with  orders,  was  at  Florence, 
and  Pinturicchio  was  the  foreman  of  his  Perugian  studio  ; 
from  whom  and  from  Perugino  the  sensitive  and  borrowing 
youth  almost  wholly  drew  his  art  for  the  four  years  that  he 
wrought  with  persistent  address  in  the  great  Umbrian 
workshop.  Pictures  were  painted  by  him  during  these 
years  from  the  cartoons  and  studies  of  both  masters  ;  and, 
by  consequence,  his  art  whilst  he  painted  in  Perugia  was  a 
blend  of  the  styles  created  by  Francia  and  Perugino,  not 
untouched  bv  the  colour  faculty  of  Pinturicchio— his  first 
186 


OF   PAINTING 


revelation   of  his   habit  of  taking  all   that  was   best  from  WHEREIN 

others  and  creating  a  composite  style  out  of  them.     The  WE   WALK 

Solly  Madonna  and  a  Crucifixion  were  painted  between  1 500  WITH 

and  1502,  his  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  years;  his  Vision  of  ^-^"^AEL, 

a  Knight  and   Coronation  of  the  Virgin  for  the  Oddi  family  RArAjAvrT 

between    1502   and   1504,  his   nineteenth   and   twenty-first  rHII  D   OF 

years,  together  with  the  Diatalevi  Madonna,  the  Madonna  FORTUNE 

with  SS.  Francis  and  Jerome.     And  with  what  rapid  strides  AND 

his  industry  and   catholic   taste  urged  forward  his   hand's  APOSTLE 

skill,  you  may  see  in  the  exquisite  Httle  painting  of  The  OF   GRACE 

Vision  of  a  Knight,  wrought  by  the  youth  when  seventeen, 

and    now   at   the    National    Gallery   in    London.      It    was 

at   Perugia  that  he  painted   the  small  Conestahile  Madonna 

now  at  St.  Petersburg,  once  belonging  to  the  Conestabile- 

Staffa  family  ;    and   at  the  end  of  his  four  years  thereat, 

in  1 504,  he  painted,  and  for  the  first  time  signed  and  dated 

his  work,  in  the  Sposalizio  or  Betrothal  of  the  Virgin,  now  at 

the  Brera  in  Milan.     He  has  not  yet  wholly  found  himself 

— he    is    forming    his   style,   out   of  the   various   styles   of 

others. 

It  was  in  the  October  of  1504,  in  his  twenty-first  year, 
already  famous  at  the  edge  of  manhood,  that  Raphael,  bear- 
ing a  letter  of  introduction  from  the  Duchess  della  Rovere, 
sister  of  the  art-loving  Duke  Guidobaldo  of  Urbino,  to  the 
Gonfaloniere  Pietro  Soderini,  took  his  way  to  Florence,  and 
for  the  next  four  years,  advancing  from  success  to  success, 
and  rapidly  rising  to  increased  fame,  he  wrought  the 
beautiful  Madonnas  that  are  the  talk  of  the  wide  world. 

Raphael  painted  in  Florence,  shortly  after  his  arrival, 
the  famous  Madonna  del  Gran  Duca,  which  is  one  of  the 
treasures  of  the  Pitti  Palace  in  that  city  of  treasures.  It 
came  by  its  name  and  to  its  present  home  in  quaint  fashion. 
Towards   the   end   of  the  sixteen-hundreds  it   was  in  the 

187 


A   HISTORY 


THE  possession  of  an  old  woman,  from  whom  a  dealer  bought 

GOLDEN         it  for  four  pounds,  and  was  sold  by  him  to  the  Grand  Duke 
AGE  of  Tuscany — hence  its  name.     The  beautiful  Madonna  del 

GardeUino  of  the  Uffizi  Gallery  was  painted  some  couple  of 
years  thereafter,  by  Raphael  for  his  friend  Lorenzo  Nasi,  as 
a  wedding-present  to  his  bride — this  is  the  painting  in 
which  the  boy  John  the  Baptist  offers  a  goldfinch  {cardel- 
lino)  to  the  infant  Christ,  the  goldfinch  being  a  symbol  of 
the  Divine  Sacrifice  from  the  blood-red  marks  upon  it. 
Like  all  of  Raphael's  Madonna  pictures,  except  the  Sistine 
■  Madonna  and  the  Madonna  of  the  Tower,  this  Madonna  del 
CardelUno  was  painted  on  wood,  and  was  broken  to  pieces 
in  the  earthquake  of  1 547  ;  but  the  pieces  were  put  to- 
gether again  by  Nasi's  son  with  such  skill  and  care  that 
the  breaks  are  only  to  be  found  by  keen  scrutiny. 

A  couple  of  years  in  Florence,  with  its  vast  artistic 
achievement,  were  not  lost  upon  the  eager  ken  of  the 
impressionable  Raphael — from  Masaccio's  frescoes  in  the 
Carmine,  and  Donatello's  sculptured  marble,  and  Luca  and 
Andrea  della  Robbia's  modelled  terra-cottas,  to  Michel- 
angelo's colossal  statue  oi  David  (which  was  set  up  in  1504) 
and  his  Holy  Family  in  the  Uffizi,  to  the  paintings  of 
Domenico  Ghirlandaio  and  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Fra 
Bartolommeo,  which  were  in  the  full  freshness  of  their 
splendour,  he  took  all  that  he  could  weld  into  his  Umbrian 
vision — selected,  annexed,  dissolved,  and  re-wrought  into 
his  own  personal  concept,  without  losing  that  personal 
vision  or  abjectly  surrendering  it;  and  by  consequence  of 
his  wide  gleanings  he  became  enslaved  by  none.  Master 
of  a  new  sense  of  modelling  and  of  grouping,  he  now 
evolved  a  marked  style,  which  is  seen  in  his  world-famous 
Madonna  degli  Ansidei  or  Ansidet  Madonna,  one  of  the  great 
treasures  of  the  National  Gallery  in  London,  and  taking  its 
188 


OF   PAINTING 


name  from  the  family  chapel  of  Filippo  di  Simoni  Ansldei,  WHEREIN 
in  the  insignificant  little  church  of  San  Fiorenzo  at  Perugia.  WE   WALK 
The   Ansidei  Madonna   was   given   to   the    third    Duke    of  WITH 
Marlborough  by  his  brother,  Lord  Robert  Spencer,  at  the  RAPHAEL, 

end  of  the  seventeen-hundreds ;  and  on  its  becoming  known,  ..  ,  ^^r  a  xt^ 
oo        i_        u       •   t-  V    J   1  11   ,  •         11      •        RADIANT 

in  1004,  that  the  eighth  duke  was  to  sell  his  collection,  rniLD   OF 

and  the  Director  of  the  National   Gallery,  Sir  Frederick  poRTUNE 

Burton,   valuing   the  picture  to  the  Treasury  at    11 0,00c  AND 

guineas,    Gladstone,   being   Chancellor   of  the   Exchequer,  APOSTLE 

offered  the  Duke  ^70,000  from  the  nation,  to  whom,  by  OF   GRACE 

Special  Act  of  Parliament,  then  passed,  in  splendid  condition, 

one  of  Raphael's  highest  achievements.     Its  predella,  as  the 

frieze  is  called  that  runs  along  the  foot  of  an  altarpiece,  had 

been   kept   by   Lord   Robert  Spencer — of  its  three  panels 

two  have  disappeared,  but  the  third,  St.  'John  the  Baptist 

Preachings  is  in  the  collection  of  the  Marquess  of  Lansdowne 

at  Bowood.     Other  early  Madonnas  are  his  Madonna  of  the 

Palm  Tree,  the  Madonna  of  the  Meadow,  now  in  Vienna,  the 

Madonna    Canigiani,    the    Madonna    delta    Casa    Tempi,   the 

Orleans  Madonna,  the  two  Cowper  Madonnas  at  Pansh anger, 

and  the  Madonna  del  Baldacchino  at  the  Pitti.     To  his  period 

in  Florence  also  belong  his  charming  portrait  of  himself  at 

the  Uffizi,  the  St.  George  and  the  Apollo  and  Marsyas,  all 

three  painted  in  1506. 

Close  on  the  completion  of  the  Ansidei  Madonna  was 
painted,  in  1507,  the  Entombment  at  the  Borghese  Palace  in 
Rome,  in  which,  in  spite  of  its  pathos  and  beauty  of  hand- 
ling, Raphael  reveals  his  laborious  efforts  to  blend  the 
styles  of  Perugino,  Mantegna,  and  Michelangelo,  not 
without  weakness  and  the  crov/ding  of  its  composition. 

About  the  time  he  painted  the  Entombment,  he  was  at 
work  upon  the  large  Madonna  di  Sanf  Antonio,  bought  by 
Mr.  J.   Pierpont  Morgan.     Painted  for  the  nuns  of  Sant' 

189 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Antonio  of  Padua  for  their  convent  in  Perugia,  they  sold  it 

GOLDEN         in  1 677  for  a  small  sum — the  five  panels  of  its  great  centre 
AGE  picture  had  shrunk  apart,  leaving  fissures,  and  the  colour 

was  beginning  to  flake  off — Antonio  Bagazzini,  the  noble- 
man of  Perugia  who  bought  it,  promising  a  copy  as 
substitute.  The  nuns  of  St.  Anthony  had  already  sold  the 
five  little  panel  pictures  of  its  predella  in  1663  to  Queen 
Christina  of  Sweden.  Thence  the  Madonna  passed  to 
Prince  Colonna — thence  in  1825  to  Francis  i.,  King  of  the 
Two  Sicilies — thence  to  Francis  11.,  King  of  Naples,  whose 
bedroom  it  adorned,  until  the  Revolution  of  i860  sent  him 
flying,  and  the  picture  with  him,  into  his  Spanish  exile. 
In  1867  the  Director  of  the  National  Gallery,  Sir  William 
Boxall,  was  in  treaty  for  it  for  the  State,  but  Disraeli  had 
to  abandon  the  intention  owing  to  its  going  to  Pans  to  be 
offered  to  France  instead,  where  it  lay,  packed  in  a  case, 
during  the  war  with  Germany  of  1 870.  It  was  again  offered 
to  England — then,  after  purchase  by  Colnaghi  the  dealer, 
from  whom  it  went  to  M.  Sedelmeyer  of  Paris,  it  came  to 
Mr.  Pierpont  Morgan  for  ^100,000  in  1901.  The  five 
panels  of  its  predella  are  now,  two  of  them,  St.  Francis  of 
Assist  and  St.  Anthony  of  Padua,  in  the  Dulwich  College 
Gallery  ;  the  third.  The  Agony  in  the  Garden,  belongs  to 
Mr.  Burdett-Coutts ;  the  fourth,  Christ  bearing  the  Cross, 
belongs  to  the  Earl  of  Plymouth ;  and  the  fifth,  the  Pieta, 
is  in  Mrs.  J.  L.  Gardiner's  collection  at  Fenway  Court  in 
Boston  in  the  United  States.  Of  the  picture  of  the 
Madonna  itself,  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  has  under- 
gone much  restoration,  from  which  it  has  suffered  con- 
siderably, but  it  was  probably  never  as  fine  a  work  as  the 
An  side  i  Madonna. 

Shortly  afterwards  Raphael  was  at  work  on  the  cele- 
brated La  Belle  Jardiniere,  now  at  the  Louvre,  which  was 
190 


OF   PAINTING 

bought  by  Francis  i.  of  France.     The  name  is  founded  on  WHEREIN 
a  legend  that  a  "gardener's  daughter"  sat  as  model  for  the  WE   WALK 
Madonna,  but  it  is  as  likely  that  the  gardener's  daughter  WITH 
was  invented  to  fit  the  title.     At  any  rate  it  is  but  a  legend,  l^APHAEL, 
which  would  easily  spring  up  about  the  Madonna,  who  sits  oAniAMT 
on  a  hillock,  flowers  at  her  feet.      Raphael  was  painting  the  /-tttt  ^   rye 
panel  when  he  was  called  to  Rome  in  1508,  and  forthwith  poRTUNE 
obeyed   the    summons,   leaving    the    blue    drapery    of  the  AND 
Madonna  to  be  finished  by  Ridolfo   Ghirlandaio,  the  son  APOSTLE 
of  the  famous  Ghirlandaio.  OF   GRACE 

Raphael  in  Rome,   1508 

Pope  Julius  II.  called  the  young  Raphael  to  Rome  in 
1508,  and  the  young  fellow  came  on  the  tide  of  fortune. 
Julius  had  hated  the  dead  Pope  Alexander  vi.,  one  of  the 
vilest  of  the  Borgias.  He  detested  to  live  in  the  same  rooms 
that  the  Borgian  had  used  at  the  Vatican.  He  determined, 
in  the  year  that  followed  Raphael's  arrival,  to  move  to  the 
upper  room  which  Piero  dei  Franceschi  and  Bramantino 
had  decorated.  Julius,  not  approving  the  decorations,  had 
set  Perugino,  Pinturicchio,  Peruzzi,  Bazzi,  and  Signorelli 
to  work  upon  that  part  called  the  Stanze^  or  Library. 
Raphael's  work  so  pleased  Julius  that  he  forthwith  decreed 
that  he  should  obliterate  the  work  of  the  others  and  paint 
it  again.  It  is  to  Raphael's  eternal  credit  that  at  any  rate 
he  saved  the  work  of  Perugino,  Peruzzi,  and  Bazzi  from 
destruction,  and  though  his  entreaties  could  not  save  the 
series  of  heads  by  Bramantino,  he  had  them  copied  by  his 
assistants  before  they  were  destroyed. 

When  Raphael  alighted  at  Rome  in  the  summer  of 
1508,  he  was  but  twenty-five  years  of  age,  with  a  great 
reputation,  and  such  master-work  as  the  Madonna  del  Gran 
Duca,  the  Madonna  del  Cardellino,  the  Ansidei  Madonna^  and 

191 


A   HISTORY 


THE  La  Belle  Jardiniere  behind  him.     He  came  to  find  Michel- 

GOLDEN         angelo  at  work  on  his  great  ceiling-paintings  of  the  Sistine 
AGE  Chapel  for  Pope  Julius  ii. 

The  two  men — Michelangelo  being  thirty-three,  Raphael 
twenty-five — so  different  in  character,  in  art,  in  their  signifi- 
cance and  their  vision,  were  soon  embarked  upon  a  hot 
rivalry.  The  one  with  noble  blood  in  him,  a  grim  and 
overwhelming  giant  of  a  man — compelling  and  creative — 
the  other  a  born  courtier,  the  son  of  a  courtier.  The  art  of 
Michelangelo,  so  vast  and  sublime  that  little  men  could  scarce 
see  it,  the  art  of  the  other  so  easy  to  see.  With  the  aged  Pope, 
Julius  II.,  whose  greybearded  features  are  so  familiar  to  us 
through  the  young  Raphael's  famous  portrait  of  him,  Raphael 
was  early  a  favourite.  Treated  with  the  greatest  pomp  and 
ceremony,  honours  showered  upon  him,  and  orders  for  work 
flowing  in  upon  him,  the  young  fellow's  genius  expanded 
in  the  sunshine,  and  his  skill  of  hand  brought  forth  master- 
pieces that  are  an  astounding  achievement  in  one  so  young. 
He  became  the  centre  of  a  very  court.  He  surrounded 
himself  with  pupils,  and  henceforth  furnished  only  the 
cartoons  for  his  frescoes  and  for  many  of  the  pictures  attri- 
buted to  him — his  pupils  carrying  them  out,  Raphael 
putting  the  finishing  touches  upon  them  where  necessary. 
Of  these  pupils,  the  most  gifted  and  best-beloved  was  Giulio 
Pippi,  better  known  as  Giulio  Romano,  who,  with  Gian- 
FRANCESCo  Penni,  painted  most  of  the  frescoes  at  the 
Vatican  after  Raphael's  designs.  Giulio  Romano's  work  is 
marked  by  that  preference  for  brick-red  in  his  carnation 
tones  which  is  seen  also  in  these  Raphael  frescoes — a  defect 
eagerly  imitated  by  generations  of  artists  who,  dazzled  by 
the  fame  of  Raphael's  reputation,  fervently  sought  to  repeat 
what  they  took  to  be  his  mastery  in  colour,  but  of  which 
Raphael  was  wholly  innocent ! 
192 


OF  PAINTING 

By    his    great    patron,    Pope   Julius    ii.,    Raphael    was  WHEREIN 
employed  in  the  decoration  at  the  Vatican  of  certain  rooms  WE   WALK 
called  the  Stanze,  and  in  the  long  covered   gallery  round  WITH 
the    courtyard    of   San    Damasio    called    the    Loggie.     For  RAPHAEL, 
the    Stanze    he     painted     vast     religious,    historical,     and  ^ 
allegorical    compositions.       His    first    large    fresco    in    the  CHILD^OF 
Stanze  w^as  the  famed  Disputa  del  Sacramento^  better  described  PORTUNF 
as  The  Triumph  of  the  Churchy  a  v^^ork  in  which  he  reached  AND 
an  astounding  power  of  arrangement  that  gives  a  profound  APOSTLE 
sense  of  dignity  and  immensity.     He  takes  from  all  that  OF   GRACE 
has   gone   before,   but   he   blends   the   genius   of  his   fore- 
runners into  a  masterpiece  of  which  none  had  been  capable. 
At  once  his  skill  in  arrangement  of  masses  is  seen  to  have 
matured  as  at  a  stroke.     Of  several  others  in  the   Stanze 
were    The  School  of  Athens^   the    Parnassus^  the    Heliodorus 
driven  from  the  Temple^  the  Pope  Leo  checking  the  advance  oj 
Attila,  and  Ulncendio  del  Borgo.     Of  these,  the  Parnassus, 
painted  in    151 1,   is  one  of  his   earliest   and   finest   pagan 
frescoes.     These  great  frescoes  have  the  added  inestimable 
value  of  containing  portraits  of  many  of  Raphael's  great 
contemporaries  and  forerunners — the  famed  Dante  portrait, 
Savonarola,   Fra  Angelico,   Bramante,  Leonardo  da  Vinci, 
Castiglione,  Federigo   Gonzaga,  Bazzi  il  Sodoma,  Raphael 
himself,  and  many  others,  not  forgetting  the  Pope,  Julius  11. 
For  the  Loggie  he  designed  a  series  of  frescoes  of  scenes 
from  sacred  history,  generally  known  as  RaphaeTs  Bible,  and 
directed  a  profusion   of   elaborate  decorations  founded  on 
the  paintings  of  ancient  Rome.     Living  a  life  of  pleasure, 
with  a  retinue  worthy  of  a  prince,  the  lover  of  a  lady  of 
whom  he  has  left  a  fine  portrait,  the  Donna  Velata,  at  the 
Pitti  Palace,  in  twelve  years  he  wrought  this  stupendous  work 
which  alone  might  have  filled  the  full  life  of  any  industrious 
man ;  he  found  time,  besides,  to  paint  Madonna  pieces  that 
VOL.  I — 2  B  193 


A   HISTORY 


AGE 


THE  would  make  the  reputation  of  the  greatest  masters,  and  to 

GOLDEN  paint  portraits  of  superb  achievement.  Between  the  years 
1508  and  15 12  he  wrought  the  Madonna  of  Foligno,  now  at 
the  Vatican,  the  Garvagh,  Diadem  and  Casa  d' Abba  Madonnas, 
and  the  Madon?ia  of  the  Tower,  so  called  from  the  small 
tower  seen  in  the  landscape  of  the  background,  a  picture 
lately  given  to  the  National  Gallery  in  London  by  a 
member  of  the  family  of  Mr.  R.  J.  Mackintosh,  who 
bought  it  at  the  sale  of  Samuel  Rogers,  the  poet,  who 
bought  it  from  Mr.  Henry  Hope's  sale,  who  had  it  from 
the  Orleans  collection — its  possession  by  Rogers  accounting 
for  its  long-time  name  of  the  Rogers  Madonna,  and  it  will 
sometimes  be  found  under  the  name  of  the  Madonna  with 
the  Standing  Child.  It  has  suffered  much  restoration  and 
over-cleaning — indeed  this,  one  of  the  only  two  Madonnas 
painted  on  canvas  by  Raphael,  is  challenged  as  being  the 
work  of  Raphael's  hands  ;  and  even  the  cartoon  for  it,  in 
the  Print  Room  of  the  British  Museum,  is  set  down  to 
Brescianino,  Fra  Bartolommeo,  and  Andrea  del  Sarto,  as 
well  as  to  Raphael,  by  the  doubters.  The  drawing  and 
modelling  may  have  been  rendered  weak  by  the  many 
over-cleanings  ;  but  if  by  Raphael,  this  picture  reveals 
his  colour-sense  profoundly  enhanced  by  the  Venetian 
achievement  ;  for  in  it  he  displays  a  faculty  for  colour 
which  he  never  again  approached. 

The  death  of  Julius  11.  in  15 13,  and  the  election  of 
Pope  Leo  x.,  saw  the  labours  of  Raphael  largely  extended 
in  Rome  ;  and  the  death  of  Bramante,  the  architect 
of  St.  Peter's,  the  following  year,  saw  Raphael  appointed 
in  his  stead.  The  year  that  followed  he  was  made  In- 
spector of  the  Antiquities  and  Monuments  of  Rome,  with 
the  supervision  of  the  excavation  of  Rome,  which  had 
grown  into  a  keen  pursuit.  This  year  of  15 15,  Raphael, 
194 


OF  PAINTING 

at    thirty-two,    painted    the    great    portrait    of    Baidassare  WHEREIN 

Castiglione^  once   the   property  of  Charles   i.   of   England,  WE   WALK 

but  now  at  the   Louvre.     It  was  on  his  coming  to  Rome  WITH 

that  Raphael  began  to  work  on  his  superb  portraits  ;  and  ^^"HAEL, 

this  one  reveals  him  at  the  height  of  his  powers.  „  Am  amt 

About  this   time   also  he   made   his   famous    Cartoons :  --tttt  t^   ^r- 
•       1    11  r  CHILD    OF 

broadly  drawn  m  chalk  on  stout  sheets  of  paper,  and  highly  FORTUNE 

coloured    in    distemper,    as    cartoons    for    the    weavers    of  AND 
tapestries  at  Arras,  designed  to  be  hung  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  APOSTLE 
and  which  were  woven  and  placed  therein  in    1 5 1 9  ;  the  OF  GRACE 
cartoons    were    left    at    Arras    where    the    tapestries    were 
wrought,  and  lay  there  long  forgotten,  until  Rubens  found 
them — and  it  was  on  his  shrewd  advice  that  Charles  the 
First  of  England  bought  them.     Each  of  the  cartoons  had 
been  cut  up  ;  and  they  were  joined  together  and  restored, 
but  in  spite  of  their  mutilation  they  retain  their  broad  and 
simple   grandeur  of  design  and  arrangement,   and    display 
consummate  draughtsmanship.     Of  these  Raphael  Cartoons^ 
seven   are   to-day   amongst   the    supreme    treasures    of  the 
British    Crown,    and   are   to   be   seen    at   the   South    Ken- 
sington Museum,  whither  they  were  taken  from  Hampton 
Court  some  years  ago. 

It  was  in  the  next  year,  15 16,  that  Raphael  painted 
a  very  popular  picture  of  the  Madonna,  his  charming 
Madonna  della  Sedia  (the  Madonna  of  the  Chair).  Here 
again,  though  the  hand  of  the  restorer  has  done  its  work, 
the  comely  peasant-girl  is  painted  with  rare  charm,  and 
the  colour-faculty  is  considerable  ;  and,  as  usual  with 
Raphael,  both  the  sturdy  child  in  her  arms  and  the 
Madonna  herself  are  rather  a  straightforward  picture  of  a 
countrywoman  folding  her  boy  in  her  arms  than  the  Divine 
Infant  in  the  care  of  the  appointed  Mother  of  God — the 
range  of  the  imagination  is  of  the  most  limited  kind.     But 

195 


A   HISTORY 


THE  it  is  just  that  simple,  homely  appeal,  which  has  sent  the 

GOLDEN         crude    reproductions    of   this    masterpiece    broadcast    into 
AGE  thousands  of  homes. 

Of  the  great  Madonna  pieces  on  which  Raphael's  wide 
popularity  is  built,  the  supreme  masterpiece  of  the  world- 
famed  Sistine  Madonna,  now  at  Dresden — and  sometimes 
known  as  the  Dresden  Madonna — was  painted  a  couple  of 
years  afterwards,  about  15 18 — and,  contrary  to  Raphael's 
habit,  upon  canvas.  Painted  for  the  monks  of  the  monas- 
tery of  San  Sisto  at  Piacenza,  to  be  set  above  the  high  altar 
of  their  church  there,  where  it  stood  until  171 5,  it  was 
sold,  under  the  temptation  of  the  then  huge  bribe  of  £9000, 
to  the  Elector  Augustus  11.  of  Saxony.  This  was  to  be 
but  the  beginning  of  its  dramatic  adventures.  It  became 
part  of  Napoleon's  splendid  loot,  and  hung  in  the  Louvre 
until  1 8 14,  when,  on  the  fall  of  the  Corsican,  it  was  sent 
back  to  Dresden,  where  it  now  is.  What  need  to  describe 
the  masterpiece  which  engravings  and  colour-prints  and  the 
photograph  have  made  familiar  to  every  civilised  being  ! 
In  painting  the  Virgin  in  Glory,  standing  in  the  heavens, 
her  Infant  Son  held  in  her  arms.  Pope  Sixtus  11.,  Saint 
Barbara,  and  the  two  famous  little  cherubim  adoring, 
Raphael  created  a  work  which  is  infused  with  dignity  and 
majesty  in  spite  of  its  poverty  of  skill  in  arrangement,  in 
spite  of  its  stupid  curtains  in  the  high  heavens,  in  spite  of 
the  clumsy  arrangement  of  the  two  saints,  and  the  scattered 
and  broken  interest — and  in  nothing  is  this  innate  dignity 
seen  more  fully  than  when,  as  is  usual  in  reproductions,  the 
central  figures  of  the  Virgin  and  Child  are  torn  from  their 
surroundings  and  are  seen  in  the  full  splendour  of  their 
achievement,  withdrawn  from  all  conflicting  elements. 

Raphael  has  been  as  undeservedly  belittled  and  out  of 
the  fashion  of  late,  as  he  was  for  centuries  grossly  overrated. 
196 


OF   PAINTING 


The  latest  claim,  wherein   he  has  been  hailed  in   ecstatic  WHEREIN 
fashion  as  "  the  greatest  master  of  space-composition,"  could  WE   WALK 
only  have  been  made  by  writers  on  art  who  are  not  them-  WITH 
selves  artists.     This  new  cult  of  "  space  composition  "  has  ^^APHAEL, 
no  significance   for   an  artist,  who  means  by  composition  r,A-pjTAK'T 
and  by   space    quite    other    things.     It   is   a   literary  cult,  chub  OF 
meaning  the  arrangements  of  composition  in  relation  to  the  FORTUNE 
depth  of  a  picture.     In  this  faculty  Raphael  was  no  more  AND 
a  supreme  master  than  many  another  painter.     In  the  more  APOSTLE 
vital  faculty  of  arrangement  and  spacing,  as  artists  under-  OF   GRACE 
stand  it,  in  that  power  of  arranging  and  filling  the  painted 
ground  with  such  skill  that  the  largeness  of  the  composition 
creates  and  arouses,  through  our  sense  of  vision,  emotions 
such  as  the  deep   phrasing  of  great  music  creates  in  our 
hearing,  Raphael  more  than  once  proved  himself  a  master. 
But  he  was  not  particularly  gifted  in  the  power  of  creating 
space  music.     His  art  depends  always  on  its  utterance  of 
gracefulness,  uttered  in  the  manner  called  grandiose.     He 
developed  certain  fine  spacings,  'tis  true — but  he  repeated 
them  overmuch. 

The  portrait  of  his  great  patrons,  the  bearded  Pope 
'Julius  II.  seated  in  a  Chair.,  and  the  clean-shaven  Pope  Leo  X, 
at  the  Pitti  Palace  in  Florence,  are  of  the  finest  examples 
of  that  portraiture  which  Raphael  practised  after  his  coming 
to  Rome.  The  Prado  holds  his  fine  Cardinal  Bibbiena ;  the 
Pitti  his  Angiolo  Doni  and  Maddalena  Doni ;  the  S.  Luca 
Gallery  at  Rome  his  so-called  Violin-Player ;  and  the 
Borghese  his  so-called  Perugino^  the  authorship  of  which 
is  challenged,  but  which  is,  if  by  Raphael,  his  greatest 
portrait. 

Raphael  was  now  rich  and  greatly  courted.  Cardinal 
Bibbiena  had  proposed  an  "advantageous  match"  with  his 
niece  Maria,  to  which  Raphael  pledged  himself,  with  what 

197 


A   HISTORY 


THE  intention  of  redeeming  the  pledge  we  shall  never  know — 

GOLDEN         he  was  a  tactful  soul.     He  was  living  at  the  time  with  the 

AGE  beautiful  daughter  of  a  baker  from  Siena,  his  famed  mistress 

the  *'  Bella   Fornarina."     His   ardent   love-sonnets   hint  at 

many  affairs  of  the  heart. 

During  the  last  few  years  of  his  life  in  Rome,  Raphael, 
as  he  had  earlier  done  with  his  frescoes,  handed  over  the 
greater  part  of  his  paintings  to  his  pupils  and  assistants,  of 
whom  the  most  important  were  now  Giulio  Romano, 
Francesco  Penni,  and  Perino  del  Vaga.  But  he  himself 
painted,  for  Agostino  Chigi's  Villa  Farnesina,  the  fresco 
of  Galatea^  and  for  the  same  merchant-prince  \}!\&  frescoes  of 
the  Chigi  Chapel  in  S.  Maria  della  Pace. 

Raphael  was  at  work  upon  his  great  Transfiguration^ 
now  at  St.  Peter's  in  Rome,  when  he  caught  fever  whilst 
superintending  some  excavations,  and  died  on  the  Good 
Friday  of  1520,  which  happened  to  fall  on  his  thirty- 
seventh  birthday,  the  6th  of  April.  The  beautiful 
Margaret,  "  La  Fornarina,"  was  with  him  as  he  lay  dying ; 
but  was  put  out  of  the  room  by  the  messenger  of  the  Pope, 
who  refused  the  dying  man  the  benediction  in  her  presence. 
The  Transfiguration  was  finished,  after  Raphael's  death, 
by  his  favourite  pupil,  Giulio  Romano. 

Four  months  after  Raphael  died,  the  "  Fornarina," 
Margaret  Luti,  daughter  of  Francesco  Luti  of  Siena,  was 
received  into  the  congregation  of  Sant'  Apollonia  in 
Trastevere,  a  home  for  repentant  Magdalenes — she  whose 
face  lives  immortal  in  the  Sistine  Madonna^  in  the  Donna 
Velata,  and  the  St.  Cecilia  as  well  as  other  Madonna  pieces. 

Raphael,  the  sunny  child  of  Fortune,  basking  ever  in 
the  warm  rays  of  Success,  was  a  born  courtier.     He  saw 
life   as   a   courtier.     He   read  the  gospels  like  a  courtier. 
198 


OF   PAINTING 

His  Madonnas,  his  infant-Christs,  his  saints,  are  the  crea-  WHEREIN 

tions   of  a   courtier.      His   superb  Dispute  of  the  Sacrament  WE  WALK 

is  a  mighty  significance  as  seen  by  a  courtier.      His  chief  WITH 

friend.   Count  Baldassare  Castidione,  was  a  courtier,  and  RAPHAEL, 

THF 
wrote    The   Book  of  the   Courtier.      Raphael  is,   and    always  o  AnTAXT-p 

will  be,   the  literary  man's  ideal  of  a  painter,  "the  most  n\J^^  t^  r^T- 

beloved  or  artists.  FORTIJNF 

He   has   been   hailed   as   "  the   most   classically  perfect  AND 
student  of  pure  beauty  " — whatever  that  may  mean.      How  APOSTLE 
he  could  be  so  without  creating  the  greatest  types  of  beauty,  OF  GRACE 
it  were  difficult  to  say;  and  to  say  that  he  did  so,  were  to 
ride  for  a  fall. 

Raphael  is  the  painter  of  Grace,  of  gentle  Temperance, 
of  Sweetness — a  sunny  soul  living  in  brightness,  unruffled 
by  tragedies  or  terrors  ;  radiant  as  the  sun-god,  smiling, 
blind  to  all  discomforting  things.  He  is  the  painter-poet 
of  Loveliness.  His  brief  life  was  a  pageant  of  success.  He 
was  at  least  faithful  to  his  mistress.  His  wealth  of  achieve- 
ment is  a  world-wonder.  He  is  the  type  of  that  part  of 
the  sumptuous  life  of  Florence  that  went  calmly  along  a 
flower-strewn  way  whilst  the  streets  on  every  hand  were 
racked  with  vice  and  suffering  and  violence.  He  was  akin 
in  spirit  to  the  French  court-painters  of  the  years  before 
the  Revolution,  except  that  he  ever  turned  his  eyes  from 
naughtiness,  and  refused  even  to  suspect  the  lords  of  the 
people  of  adulteries.  Of  the  essential  Renaissance  Raphael 
spoke  no  word,  uttered  no  indiscretion. 

The  art  of  Raphael,  greatly  honoured  in  the  days  when 
he  wrought  it  in  all  the  splendour  of  his  brief  and  success- 
ful life,  was  grossly  overrated  for  centuries  as  the  supreme 
achievement  of  the  Renaissance,  and  so  continued  almost 
into  our  own  day.  He  was  acclaimed  the  "  king  of  painters," 
"  the  divine  painter,"  who  was  none  of  these.    All  men  who 

199 


A   HISTORY 


THE  took  pen   in   hand,  and  desired  to  be  considered  cultured, 

GOLDEN         all  men  who  did  the  Grand  Tour,  every  man  who  desired 
AGE  ^Q  acquire  the  reputation  of  learned  or  fashionable  bloods — 

the  professor  of  history  or  dictator  of  taste,  the  moralist  and 
the  scientist  and  the  philosopher,  grew  to  look  upon 
Raphael  as  the  lord  of  art — they  fashioned  their  theories 
on  it,  floated  their  schemes  of  the  works  of  man's  brain 
upon  it,  made  it  the  groundwork  of  their  researches  into 
what  they  falsely  mistook  to  be  art,  and  generally  called 
by  some  such  phrase  as  the  Sublime  and  the  Beautiful. 
The  artists  also,  when  they  wrote  of  their  art,  or  spoke  of 
it,  or  theorised  about  it,  bowed  to  this  sorry  conception 
of  it.  Reynolds  knew  that  Raphael  was  not  the  greatest 
of  artists,  but  he  dared  not  say  so. 

The  end  was  inevitable.  A  violent  reaction  followed, 
Raphael  was  flung  from  his  pedestal — as  the  achievement 
of  all  Italy  must  and  will  be  flung  from  its  ridiculous 
pedestal — but,  as  inevitably,  he  has  been  grossly  underrated 
and  reviled  and  sneered  at. 

Raphael  is  a  great  significance  in  art — if  not  the 
mighty  significance  he  was  once  declared  to  be.  In  the 
glamour  that  the  intellectual  snobbery  of  the  ^Esthete  and 
the  Cultured  cast  about  him,  he  was  hailed  as  uttering  in 
his  Madonnas  and  child-Christs  a  wondrously  reverent  and 
spiritual  significance  which  is  exactly  what  his  whole 
achievement  lacks.  His  art  is  devoid  of  that  wondrous 
and  exquisite  and  subtle  mystic  religious  fervour  that 
marked  the  art  of  the  great  painters  of  the  fourteen- 
hundreds.  Florence,  in  his  day,  was  herself  wholly  devoid 
of  it — and  Rome  even  more  void.  Raphael  wrought  his 
grandiose  and  graceful  art  for  beauty's  sake  alone  ;  and  for 
such  beauty  as  expressed  the  aristocratic  ideal  of  beauty 
that  was  the  sumptuous  and  splendid  aim  in  the  palaces  of 
200 


OF  PAINTING 

the  great.      He  painted  country-girls  for  Madonnas — they  WHEREIN 
are  neither  country-girls  nor  Madonnas,  but  the  country-  WE  WALK 
girl  as  the  courtiers  in  palaces  would  see  her,  dressed  for  WITH 
the  part,  elegantly  graceful,  and  as  nice  as  possible  for  her  l^APHAEL, 
majestic  and  awful  destiny.  itit. 

Raphael  is  the  type  of  his  age.     Italy  had  spent  herself  pTT,r  p.  ^rp 
in  the  feverish  and  astounding  activities  of  the  Renaissance  porttjnF 
to  lead  the  world  in  the  New  Learning,  to  stand  in  the  j^^y) 
New  Dawn  as  the  lord  of  the  great  advance  of  the  human  APOSTLE 
soul.    Italy  arose  like  a  splendid  young  giant  from  the  sloth  OF  GRACE 
of  the  past,  who  arrays  himself  in  the  splendour  and  know- 
ledge of  past  ages,  but  has  no  vision  beyond  the  edge  of  his 
narrow  world.     She  was  too  steeped  in  her  ancient  glory, 
too  weighted  with  the  armour  of  her  ancient  beliefs,  to 
arise  out  of  the  wreckage  that  her  awakening  wrought. 
The  new  life,  the  new  revelation,  was  to  pass  to  a  more 
vigorous  breed,  less  weighted  by  ancient  traditions,  more 
stern    of    purpose,    more    disciplined    of   will,    that    hated 
the  sham  forms  of  liberty  without  freedom  as  much  as  the 
aesthetic  Italians  adored  them — to  a  race  that  had  its  heart 
in  its  home,  not  in  an  awestruck  delight  in  the  splendour 
of  the  palaces  of  its  lords. 

Raphael  was  what  the  pedants  called  "  eclectic,"  a 
borrower  and  user  of  other  men's  splendour — and  a  Mighty 
Borrower  he  was.  He  took  the  best  from  all  that  the  art 
of  Italy  had  wrought  in  his  native  land  of  Umbria,  with 
the  art  that  he  found  in  Florence  and  Rome,  the  lands  of 
his  adoption  ;  he  selected  from  the  great  ones,  and  welded 
their  artistry  into  his  hand's  skill,  wrought  a  style  of  his 
own  out  of  their  various  achievements,  and  employed  it  to 
utter  his  own  vision  in  so  far  as  he  had  a  vision.  But  his 
was  a  receptive  genius,  nearer  to  woman  than  man  ;  he 
created  but  little,  he  gave  forth  of  the  abundance  of  the 
VOL.  I — 2  c  20 1 


A   HISTORY 


THE  vision  of  others,  as  he  saw  their  various  artistries  and  the 

GOLDEN         craft    of   their    hands.      But    he    added    little    more.      He 
AGE  summed  up  their  essayings  and  advances  along  the  develop- 

ment of  art  into  a  final  completeness  by  creating  a  complex 
style  that  should  combine  all  their  splendours.  He  v^^as 
the  very  child  of  the  Italy  of  the  age,  v^hich  stood  calcula- 
ting her  advance,  and  making  an  account  of  her  achieve- 
ment. He  v^^as  in  that  measure  greatly  an  academical — 
his  vision  was  the  vision  of  the  Renaissance  that  created 
him  as  its  collector  of  her  significances.  His  genius  and 
exquisite  sensitiveness  to  his  atmosphere  made  him  a  superb 
instrument. 

I  have  said  that  he  was  receptive  rather  than  creative, 
of  the  feminine  rather  than  the  masculine  in  his  sensing. 
His  portraits,  whether  by  himself,  or  Viti,  or  Bazzi  il 
Sodoma,  or  others,  show  him  frail  and  delicate  of  feature  to 
effeminacy.  A  great  authority  on  the  study  of  the  human 
being  as  an  animal,  that  they  call  by  the  heathenish  name 
of  anthropologist,  on  being  handed  a  cast  of  Raphael's 
skull,  took  it  to  be  the  skull  of  a  woman. 

So  did  his  art  fitly  give  utterance  to  sweetness  and 
grace  rather  than  strength  and  dramatic  power.  In  the 
frescoes  of  the  Stanze  and  Loggie  at  the  Vatican  he  gave 
forth  all  the  greatest  that  was  in  him  ;  and  proved  himself 
a  superb  illustrator.  If  any  painter's  art  was  "  literary  "  it 
was  Raphael's  ;  he  proved  that  great  art  has  nothing  to  do 
with  illustration  or  lack  of  illustration.  He  came  into  an 
Italy  as  pagan  as  it  was  Christian,  and  wholly  neither  ;  but 
rather  Italy  herself  essaying  to  see  herself,  but  unable  to 
hear  herself  for  the  clap-trap  of  the  ages. 

Neither  a  supreme  colourist  nor  a  supreme  draughts- 
man, his  craftsmanship  often  smudgy  and  nerveless,  the 
moment  he  attempted  to  rival  the  majesty  of  Michelangelo, 

202 


OF   PAINTING 

as  in  his  Entombment  in  the  Borghese  Gallery  at  Rome,  he  WHEREIN 
revealed  his  innate  academic  vision  and  lack  of  life — his  WE  WALK 
unvirile  grip  of  the  intensity  and  reality  of  life.  WITH 

Raphael  is  a  marked  contrast  to   Leonardo  da  Vinci.  R-f^"HAEL, 

If  Leonardo's  achievement  be  not  as  ereat  as  his  eenius, 

D      u     r         w  .    •     u-     f  11    .  V  D      1,        RADIANT 

Raphael  s    achievement   is   his   fullest   capacity.       Raphael  ptttt  t-j  ott 

knevs^  naught   of  the   mysteries.      His   gifts  w^ere   exactly  poRTUNF 

fitted  to  what  genius  he  had.      He  always  sang  in  tune —  AND 

the   tune  dominates  all   his  work.      He  is  the  master  of  APOSTLE 

Grace — Grace   was   his   god.       Of   the   sublime   he   rarely  OF  GRACE 

gives  a  hint.      He  was  incapable  of  terror,  of  sternness,  of 

the  tragic,  of  drama.      He  was  the  lord  of  Virginity.     In 

his  sedate  and  graceful  work  is  no  hint  that  the  Baglioni 

were  fighting  in  the  streets  of  Perugia,  no  hint  that  the 

plains  of  Ravenna  were  red  with  blood.      Raphael  sees  life 

as  a  May  Day  festival  in  a  sumptuous  church.     His  quality 

is  Sweetness.       He  uttered  not  his  age,  but  himself.       A 

gentle,    modest    man,    free    from  jealousies,    obliging    and 

kindly  of  habit,  he  bound  all  men  to  him  by  his  blithe 

courtesy. 

GiULio  PiPPi,  better  known  as  Giulio  Romano  (1492- 
1546),  whose  works  are  often  credited  to  his  master,  as  in 
the  Madonna  with  the  Infant  Christ  and  St.  John  at  the 
National  Gallery  in  London,  developed  all  those  qualities 
of  decline  which  threatened  Renaissance  art  even  in 
Raphael's  achievement.  Going  to  Mantua  three  years 
after  the  death  of  Raphael,  he  painted  the  frescoes  in 
Federigo  Gonzaga's  palace  which  are  his  finest  works. 
Raphael  himself  had  little  to  add  to  the  creative  develop- 
ment of  art  ;  he  was  a  mighty  gleaner,  with  superb  genius 
for  gathering  into  one  statement  the  varied  activities  of  his 
forerunners.  But  Giulio  Romano  and  his  fellow-pupils 
brought  no  new  vision  to  art  whatsoever  ;   they  but  em- 

203 


PAINTING 


THE  ployed  the  prescription  that  Raphael  had  written,  and  were 

GOLDEN         wholly  academic,  which  is  to  say  decadent. 
^GE  It  is  the  habit  of  the  literary,  of  those  who  essay  to 

understand  the  significance  of  art  from  the  historic  or 
aesthetic  or  other  theoretic  attitude,  as  the  professor  and  the 
critic,  to  see  only  in  the  achievement  of  the  ages  certain 
technical  superficialities.  The  most  pronounced  and  dogged 
conclusion,  by  constant  reiteration  now  passed  into  an 
aesthetic  creed,  is  that  Raphael  and  Michelangelo  having 
completed  the  utterance  of  art  in  Italy,  Italian  art  fell 
into  utter  decadence. 

It  happened  to  do  no  such  thing,  as  we  shall  see. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  academic  vision  which  formed 
so  large  a  part  of  Raphael's  art,  and  which  is  the  only  real  decay 
in  art,  did  become  the  sole  gift  to  his  pupils.  It  is  true  also, 
though  not  fully  recognised,  that  this  evil,  largely  due  to 
Raphael,  did  exert  a  baleful  influence  throughout  the 
coming  ages.  The  stupendous  genius  of  Michelangelo, 
and  the  vogue  which  grew  about  the  weaker  art  of 
Raphael,  became  a  curse  for  centuries  to  all  artistic  en- 
deavour— a  curse  compelled  upon  the  artists  by  the  critics 
and  "  esthetic  "  writers,  as  I  shall  show.  But  of  that  more 
later. 

We  are  come  to  the  art  of  one  who  stands  for  all  that 
is  sublime,  gigantic,  stupendous  in  Italian  art — who  by  the 
grandeur  of  his  conception,  of  his  design,  and  his  mastery 
of  the  human  form,  for  the  high  emotions  aroused  by  the 
sense  of  immensity,  stands  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
whole  achievement  of  his  race — Michelangelo  Buonarroti. 


204 


XXV 
MICHELANGELO 

"THE  ENTOMBMENT" 

(National  Gallery) 

This  masterly  work  Is  of  enormous  interest  to  the  art-world  as  showing 
the  methods  by  which  the  giant  of  Italy  wrought  his  undying  master- 
pieces. The  darkness  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  makes  it  difficult  to  reproduce 
in  colour  the  supreme  works  of  his  genius  in  painting. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

WHEREIN  THERE  PASSES  BY,  IN  THE  STREETS  OF  ROME, 
UNHAILED,  THE  GIANT  OF  THE  RENAISSANCE 

MICHELANGELO 
1475         -         1564 

Michelangelo    was    the    son    of    Ludovico     Buonarroti  WHEREIN 
Simone,  a  Florentine  of  consequence,  since  he  was  Governor  THERE 
(podesta)    of    Chiusi    and    Caprese,    thereto    appointed    by   PASSES   BY, 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici  but  a  few  months  before  his  child  was  ^-^^  THE 

born,   as    Messer   Ludovico   Buonarroti's   own   diarv   bears  ^^^^-^^^ 

%  •     .u  u^    J        u  u  OF   ROME, 

witness  in  the  year  1475  :    "To-day  there  was  born  unto  ' 

me  a  male  child,  whom  I  have  named  Michelagnolo.      He  -THE 

saw  the  light  at  Caprese,  whereof  I  am  Podesta,  on  Monday  GIANT   OF 

morning,  6th  March,  between  four  and  five  o'  the  clock."  THE   RE- 

So  it  came  by  a  strange  whim  of  fortune  that  the  child,  NAISSANCE 

destined  to  become  the  supreme  giant  of  the  Renaissance, 

was  born  under  the  shadow  of  the  Sasso  della  Verna,  where 

St.  Francis  of  Assisi  had  seen  visions,  not  in  the  Florence 

that  was  the  Athens  of  the  Renaissance,  wherein  Paganism 

was  a-riot  and  triumphant. 

Michelangelo   was   reputed   by   his   pupils,   Vasari   and 

Condivi,  to  be  close  kin  of  the  noble  house  of  the  Counts 

of  Canossa,   and  he   shared  their  belief  in  his  aristocratic 

birth;  gentle  he  was  by  blood,  of  ancient  Florentine  stock 

through  both  father  and  mother,  if  no  kin  of  the  Canossas. 

Ludovico  Buonarroti,  the  father,  held  his  post  for  a  year, 

after  which  he  returned  to  Settignano  village,  which  over- 

205 


A    HISTORY 


THE  looks  Florence  from  amidst  its  vines,  to  the  ancient  home 

GOLDEN         of   the   Buonarroti    amid    the    olives.      The    small    child's 
^GE  horoscope  vv^as  cast  before  the  move,  the  astrologer  prophesy- 

ing that  the  stars  had  revealed  for  the  little  fellov^'s  destiny 
that  he  w^as  "to  perform  w^onders  with  mind  and  hands." 

Now  Settignano  was  the  home  of  the  stone-masons  and 
workers  in  marble,  and  Michelangelo  himself,  in  after  years, 
used  to  jest  that  from  his  foster-mother,  a  stone-mason's 
wife,  he  had  sucked  the  craving  for  sculpture  in  his  milk 
as  a  babe.  The  mallet  and  chisel  and  bits  of  marble  were 
the  toys  of  his  childhood.  By  ten  he  could  employ  his 
tools  with  skill  that  outdid  his  foster-father,  and  his  play- 
time was  given  to  chalk  and  charcoal  and  the  copying  of 
such  decorations  in  stone  as  he  could  find — those  were  busy 
days  for  the  stone-carvers  of  Settignano,  where  her  hundreds 
of  workers  in  stone  were  hard  put  to  it  to  carry  out  the 
orders  of  the  merchant-princes  who  were  rivalling  Lorenzo 
the  Magnificent  in  the  raising  of  splendid  palaces  in 
Florence. 

The  sight  of  the  stone  being  hewn  into  living  shapes 
fired  the  art  in  the  lad.  But  the  father,  Ludovico 
Buonarroti,  had  the  modern  genteel  contempt  of  the 
Respectable  towards  the  practice  of  art.  Young  Michel- 
angelo, torn  out  of  the  village,  was  sent  to  a  grammar- 
school  in  Florence,  out  of  sound  of  the  music  of  hammer 
and  chisel  ringing  upon  marble.  But  the  schoolmaster, 
like  the  father,  found  the  rod  of  no  avail — the  boy  sought 
his  comrades  amongst  the  pupils  of  the  Florentine  artists, 
bending  all  his  will  to  the  joying  in  art.  Of  his  chief 
bov-friends  was  Francesco  Granacci,  who  was  working  in 
Ghirlandaio's  studio,  who  lent  the  eager  lad  drawings  to 
copy,  and  would  take  him  to  the  great  man's  studio  to  see 
the  latest  sensation.  The  pursuit  of  learning  was  soon  a 
206 


OF   PAINTING 


farce,   though   the   art-despising  father  flogged  the  lad  to  WHEREIN 

keep    him    from    straying    into    art's    ways.      However,  THERE 

Ludovico  at  last  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  his  son's  vulgar  PASSES   BY, 

tastes,  and  at  thirteen   Michelangelo  entered  the  studio  of  ^^   THE 

ST"REPXS 
the  most  highly  reputed  painter  in  Florence  of  that  day,  '^^^^^^^ 

being  apprenticed  to  Ghirlandaio  on  the  ist  of  April  1488.  TivrTTATTt-n 

As  he  was  to  receive  a  small  wage  during  his  three  years,  -r^rrp 

he  was  probably  already  a  capable  lad.      He  at  once  began  qjaNT   OF 

to  astound  his  master  by  his  realistic  force,  grew  rapidly  in  THE   RE- 

craftsmanship,  and  soon  the  "  child  of  such  tender  years  "  NAISSANCE 

drew  from  Ghirlandaio  the  famous   remark  :    "  This  boy 

knows  more  than  I  do."     Whether  he  learnt  much  from 

his  master,  who  is  reputed  early  to  have  grown  jealous  of 

him,  he  varied  the  menial  duties  of  an  artist's  apprentice 

by  re-drawing  Ghirlandaio's  cartoons  on  to   the   walls   of 

the    Church  of  Santa    Maria    Novella,  painting  draperies, 

and    courageously   correcting    his   master's   drawing   as   he 

re-drew   from   the   cartoons  on  to  the  wall.     When   it  is 

realised   that   the   unfinished   Madonna  and  Child  with  the 

infant  "John  the  Baptist  and  Angels  at  the  National  Gallery 

was  wrought  by  this  boy  between  the  age  of  thirteen  and 

sixteen,  during  his  apprenticeship,  it  is  small  wonder  that 

Ghirlandaio  realised  that  he  had  nothing  to  teach  the  lad. 

Now  it  so  chanced  that  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  had 
collected  into  the  gardens  of  the  Medici  at  San  Marco 
much  antique  sculpture  with  the  intention  of  raising  the 
Florentine  achievement  from  the  neglect  that  had  fallen 
since  Donatello  had  passed  away,  and  he  made  Donatello's 
foreman,  one  Bertoldo,  keeper,  to  instruct  such  youths  as 
cared  to  study  there.  Ghirlandaio,  asked  by  Lorenzo  to 
choose  from  his  apprentices  such  as  he  considered  the  most 
promising,  sent  his   two   most   brilliant   pupils,   Francesco 

207 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Granacci  and  Michelangelo.     And  here  it  was  that  Michel- 

GOLDEN         angelo  discovered  his  career.     Steeped  in  the  Hellenic  spirit, 
AGE  the    art   of   sculpture   was    revealed    to    him   through    the 

tradition  of  Donatello ;  for  Bertoldo,  his  teacher  in  sculpture, 
though  old  and  unable  to  work,  had  had  the  high  gifts  to 
finish  the  great  pulpits  of  San  Lorenzo,  begun  by  Donatello. 
Under  Bertoldo,  and  in  such  an  atmosphere,  the  lad 
increased  rapidly  in  skill;  his  first  sculpture,  The  Mask  of 
a  grinning  Fann,  caught  the  eye  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent, 
who  forthwith  persuaded  the  lad's  father  to  let  the  youth 
go  to  his  palace,  where  he  gave  him  a  good  room,  and 
treated  him  like  a  son.  Living  the  life  of  the  courtier, 
in  intimate  friendship  with  the  family  of  the  reigning 
sovereign  of  Florence,  the  young  fellow  was  soon  the  prey 
to  a  secret,  hopeless,  but  overwhelming  passion  for  the 
beautiful  Luigia  de'  Medici,  who  was  to  live  so  short  a  span, 
dying  in  1494.  Seated  at  the  prince's  table,  where  the  lad 
heard  the  converse  of  the  greatest  of  the  age,  the  poet 
Angelo  Poliziano  one  day  suggested  the  Battle  of  the 
Centaurs  and  Lapithae  to  the  fifteen-year-old  youngster,  who 
thereupon  set  to  work  upon  the  low-relief,  his  first  master- 
piece, revealing  a  power,  a  freedom  and  originality,  a  sense 
of  life  and  action,  and  a  keen  knowledge  of  the  human 
body,  that  are  close  upon  a  miracle.  His  bold  vision  and 
his  original  genius  at  once  asserted  themselves. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  serious  youth  was  much 
impressed  by  the  preaching  of  Savonarola. 

The  youth  was  now  definitely  bent  on  the  career  of 
a  sculptor,  but  he  gave  many  hours  of  his  day  to  drawing 
— working,  like  most  of  his  comrades,  from  the  frescoes  of 
Masaccio  in  the  Brancacci  Chapel  of  the  church  of  the 
Carmine ;  and  there  it  was  that,  being  frankly  criticised  by 
Michelangelo,  one  of  his  fellow-students — the  proud  and 
208 


OF   PAINTING 


ill-conditioned  Piero  Torrigiani — became  so  furious  that  he  WHEREIN 

savagely  struck  Michelangelo  a  brutal  blow  upon  the  nose,  THERE 

which  smashed  the  cartilage  and  disfigured   him  for  life,  PASSES   BY, 

adding    ru^gedness    to    Lis    already    ru2:?ed    countenance.  IHl^ 

.         SXRFFTS 
But  under  the  young  fellow's  outer  ruggedness  and  grim-  pnivrT? 

ness  lurked   an   exquisite    and   sensitive   soul.      The   bully  tttsjijatt -pA 

Torrigiani  was  banished  from  Florence,  only  to  be  recalled  fp^g 

on    Michelangelo's    earnest    pleading    to    Lorenzo    on    his  GIANT  OF 

behalf.  THE   RE- 

The  blow  was  the  beginning  of  uglier  blows  by  Fortune.  NAISSANCE 
The  young  fellow  had  scarce  completed  his  Battle  of  the 
Centaurs  and  Lapitbae  when,  on  the  8th  of  April  1492,  to 
his  overwhelming  grief,  his  beloved  friend  and  generous 
patron,  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent,  died — a  grief  not  only  to 
Michelangelo  but  to  all  Italy,  to  whom  his  death  was  a 
public  calamity.  The  youth,  overborne  with  grief,  left  his 
three-years  home  and  returned  to  his  father's  house.  His 
art  saved  him.  Buying  a  large  piece  of  marble,  he  hewed 
a  Hercules  from  it,  which  was  set  up  in  the  Strozzi  Palace, 
until  the  siege  of  Florence  in  1530,  when,  bought  by 
Giovanni  Battista  della  Palla,  it  was  sent  as  a  gift  to 
Francis  i..  King  of  France — and  has  now  wholly  vanished. 

Setting  himself  doggedly  to  a  knowledge  of  anatomy, 
he  won  the  friendship  of  the  Prior  of  Santo  Spirito,  who 
gave  him  a  room  wherein  he  dissected  the  bodies  of  executed 
criminals. 

Michelangelo's  boy-companion,  Piero  de'  Medici,  on 
succeeding  his  father,  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent,  called 
Michelangelo  back  to  the  palace.  But  the  proud  and 
insolent  son  had  none  of  his  father's  great  gifts.  His 
coarse  manners  and  vulgar  tastes  soon  had  him  foul  of  the 
people.  Michelangelo  was  the  last  to  bear  with  him.  A 
tasteless  boast  of  the  young  prince  that  he  had  two  powerful 

VOL.  I 2  D  209 


A   HISTORY 


THE  men  in  his  service,  Michelangelo   and   a   Spanish  groom, 

GOLDEN         deeply   humiliated    the   artist,   who   found   himself  classed 
AGE  with  such  a  fellow;  and,  too  proud  to  suffer  such  treatment, 

and  foreseeing  the  early  fall  of  Piero,  Michelangelo  left 
Florence  early  in  1494  for  Venice.  Unable  to  get  work, 
he  went  on  to  Bologna,  which  town  he  entered  only  to 
find  himself  charged  with  the  offence  of  being  without  a 
passport,  under  a  heavy  fine,  and  with  empty  pockets.  He 
was  saved  out  of  the  trouble  by  Gian  Francesco  Aldovrandi, 
a  gentleman  of  the  town,  who  not  only  paid  the  fine  but 
took  him  to  his  home  and  treated  him  with  great  honour. 
In  the  November  of  this  year  Piero  de'  Medici  had  to  fly 
from  Florence.  It  was  whilst  with  Aldovrandi  that 
Michelangelo  completed  an  unfinished  statue  of  San 
Petronio,  and  carved  the  statuette  of  a  kneeling  angel 
holding  a  candlestick  for  the  shrine  of  the  saint  in  the 
church  of  San  Domenico,  which  works  were  to  prove 
so  disastrous  to  his  stay  in  Bologna;  for  the  craftsmen  of 
the  place,  bitterly  complaining  that  the  young  fellow  was 
taking  the  bread  out  of  their  mouths,  became  threatening, 
and  Michelangelo  hurriedly  returned  to  Florence  in  the 
spring  of  1495.  Michelangelo  came  back  to  Florence  to 
find  the  beautiful  Luigia  de'  Medici  dead  some  months 
past,  to  find  also  that  the  fiery  and  passionate  preaching  of 
Savonarola  had  set  up  popular  government.  The  Dominican 
was  a  man  after  the  young  artist's  heart.  Overwhelming 
in  energy,  fiercely  confident  in  his  faith,  violent  in  act,  the 
priest's  gloomy  forebodings  and  eloquence  roused  the  young 
fellow  to  enthusiasm.  Michelangelo,  but  twenty,  was  made 
a  member  of  the  General  Council  of  Citizens.  He  was 
soon  at  work  on  a  statue  of  the  Youthful  St.  John  the  Baptist^ 
by  some  said  to  be  the  one  at  Berlin,  which  he  wrought  for 
Lorenzo  di  Pier  Francesco,  cousin  to  the  fugitive  Piero  de* 
210 


OF   PAINTING 


Medici.     He  thereby  won  the  admiration  of  Lorenzo,  and  WHEREIN 
his  close  friendship ;  and  it  was  Lorenzo  who,  finding  Michel-  THERE 
angelo  at  work   on   his  famous  Sleeping  Cupid,  and   struck  PASSES   BY, 
by  its  Greek  spirit,  persuaded  him  to  bury  it,  and  thereby  ^^    THE 

complete  its  antique  aspect.     Michelangelo,  to  test  its  like-  STREETS 

•  •  o      '  QP    j?oMF 

ness  to  the  antique  achievement,  did  so.      Thereafter  sent  to  ttt^tta  tt  t-n 
Rome,  it  was  bought  by  Raffaelo  Riario,  Cardinal  di  San  T-rrp  ' 

Giorgio,  as  a  perfect  example  of  the  Greek  genius.  The  jest  GIANT  OF 
was  to  lead  Michelangelo  to  Rome.  The  Cardinal,  finding  THE  RE- 
out  the  facts,  which  the  young  artist  took  small  pains  to  NAISSANCE 
hide,  was  furious  at  being  befooled;  but,  on  cooling,  came 
to  the  shrewd  decision  that  the  artist  who  could  so  deceive 
him  by  his  skill  was  no  mean  sculptor,  and  forthwith  sent 
one  of  his  gentlemen  to  Florence  to  bring  him  back  with 
him  to  Rome.  The  messenger,  finding  his  way  to 
Michelangelo,  soon  had  the  story  of  the  Greek  master- 
piece, and  found  the  young  sculptor  eager  to  leave  for 
Rome — he  was  living  suspect  of  his  fellows  in  Florence, 
as  was  inevitable  from  his  close  friendship  with  the  Medici. 
So,  on  a  day  at  the  end  of  the  June  of  1496,  in  his  twenty- 
first  year,  he  entered  the  Rome  of  his  desire  for  the  first 
time.  The  last  heard  of  the  Sleeping  Cupid  was  at  the  sack 
of  Urbino  in  1592,  when  it  became  a  part  of  the  booty 
of  Caesar  Borgia,  who  gave  it  to  the  Marchioness  of 
Mantua. 

Michelangelo  was  to  find  disappointment  in  coming  to 
Rome.  The  Cardinal's  sole  order  was  for  a  cartoon  of 
Saint  Francis  receiving  the  Stigmata,  that  the  Cardinal's  barber 
might  paint  it  !  As  luck  would  have  it,  a  wealthy  Roman, 
one  Jacopo  Galli,  ordered  a  Bacchus,  now  at  Florence,  and 
a  Cupid,  said  to  be  the  one  at  the  South  Kensington 
Museum.      The    half-drunken    Bacchus  was   to  lead   to   a 

211 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Strange   commission.     Vastly  admired,  it  drew  the  envoy 

GOLDEN         of  the  King  of  France,  Cardinal  De  la  Groslaye  de  Villiers, 
AGE  to  order  the  group  of  Our  Lady  holding  the  dead  Christ  in  her 

Arms^  as  the  contract  made  on  the  26th  of  August  1498 
shows,  and  "  that  the  said  Michelangelo  shall  furnish  the 
said  work  within  one  year."  This  would  seem  to  be  the 
superb  Fieta  at  St.  Peter's  in  Rome.  The  terms  of  the 
contract — and  contracts  are  not  greatly  given  to  flattery — 
prove  that  Michelangelo's  repute  in  this,  his  twenty-third 
year,  was  already  very  great. 

But  the  young  fellow's  troubles  and  embarrassments 
were  begun.  His  father  became  involved  in  heavy  money 
difficulties.  Michelangelo's  affection  for  and  generosity  to 
his  family  glow  in  his  letters.  He  pinched  and  wanted  that 
he  might  send  home  every  piece  of  money  he  earned.  He 
provided  for  his  three  younger  brothers — one  of  whom, 
Giovan  Simone  Buonarroti,  was  a  ne'er-do-weel  who  was  to 
give  him  continual  anxiety.  Behind  the  rugged  and  stern 
outer  man,  Michelangelo  hid  a  tender  and  unselfish  soul. 
The  poor  way  in  which  he  lived — that  every  letter  home 
might  carry  money  with  it — not  only  was  a  sad  drain  on  his 
body,  but  compelled  upon  the  rising  sculptor  a  poverty  of 
appearance  that  did  him  no  good  amongst  his  patrons.  It 
even  drew  from  his  father  the  famous  letter  in  which  he  is 
urged  not  to  stint  himself,  since  "  if  you  fall  ill  (which  God 
forbid),  you  are  a  lost  man.  Above  all  things,  never  wash  ; 
have  yourself  rubbed  down,  but  never  wash  !  " 

It  was  the  spring  of  1501,  he  being  twenty-six,  that 
Michelangelo  again  set  foot  in  Florence,  famous,  and  hailed 
as  the  first  sculptor  of  his  age.  Of  the  orders  that  poured 
in  upon  him  was  that  from  Cardinal  Piccolomini,  after- 
wards Pope  Pius  III.,  for  fifteen  statues  of  saints  for  the 
212 


OF  PAINTING 


Duomo  of  Siena.     But  the  young  fellow  had  set  eyes  upon  WHEREIN 

a  huge  block  of  marble  which  had  been  abandoned  as  use-  THERE 

less,  after  some  work  upon  it  by  a  mediocre  fellow,  in  the  PASSES   BY, 

Opera  del   Duomo  at   Florence;   and   Michelangelo   flunp-  ^^    IHE 
.  •  SXRKFXS 

himself  with  wonted  energy  at  the  task  of  hewing  a  colossal  ^^   t^^»,^ 

OF   ROME 
statue    from    it.     Two   years   of   strenuous   work   saw  the  -.^-^t- . ,,.  „' 

•       J  ui       •  ij    r     u  r    I.         •   u  •  UNHAILED, 

maimed   marble  yield   forth  one  oi   the  mightiest  master-  j^jq-p 

pieces   of  sculpture — the    immortal   David.     The    colossal  GIANT   OF 

statue,  //  Gigante  as  they  called  it,  was,  on   the    14th  day  THE   RE- 

of  the   May  of   1504,   Michelangelo's   twenty-ninth  year,  NAISSANCE 

dragged  to  the  Piazza  della  Signoria,  and  set  up  there  by 

the  Florentines  ;  and  there  it  stood  until  1873,  when  it  was 

taken   into   the  Academy.     In   the  riots  of  1527  the  left 

arm  was  broken  by  a  stone,  but  Vasari  and  Cecchino  de' 

Rossi  gathered  the  pieces,  and  restored  them  to   the  arm 

some  sixteen  years  later. 

A  gigantic  'David  by  Michelangelo  was  also  wrought  in 
bronze,  in  1502,  which  the  Florentine  Republic  gave  to  the 
French  statesman  Florimon  Robertet  ;  which,  though  it 
stood  a  hundred  years  in  the  chateau  of  Bury,  near  Blois, 
has  wholly  vanished. 

It  was  whilst  at  work  at  the  great  David  that  Michel- 
angelo also  wrought  the  two  circular  marble  low-reliefs  of 
the  Madonna  and  Child  with  the  Infant  St.  John,  now,  the 
one  at  Florence,  the  other  at  the  Royal  Academy  in 
London. 

Of  the  twelve  colossal  statues  of  the  Apostles  that  he 
started  upon  in  the  April  of  1503,  one  to  be  finished  each 
year,  Michelangelo  only  worked  upon  the  incomplete 
6"/.  Matthew,  now  in  the  Academy  at  Florence.  But  he 
painted  the  round  panel  {tondo)  of  The  Holy  Family  for  a 
merchant-prince  of  Florence,  one  Agnolo  Doni  (that  same 
Doni  whose  portrait  was  painted  by  Raphael),  now  at  the 

213 


A   HISTORY 


THE  UffizI — the   only   easel   picture   which   can  with  certainty 

GOLDEN         be  said  to  be  by  him,  unless  it  be  the  unfinished  'Entombment 

AGE  in    the   National    Gallery   in    London,   not   only   a   superb 

treasure,   but  vastly  interesting  as  showing  his  method  of 

painting  in  tempera  on  panel — revealing  his  underpainting 

on  a  green  ground. 

It  was  in  the  August  of  1504,  the  year  of  the  David 
being  set  up  in  Florence,  that  the  Gonfaloniere  of  the 
Republic,  his  friend  and  protector  Piero  Soderini,  paid  the 
young  artist  the  high  compliment  of  setting  him  to  the 
decoration  of  a  wall  in  the  Sala  del  Gran  Consiglio  of  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio,  opposite  to  the  wall  on  which  the  great 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  was  engaged.  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  at 
the  very  height  of  his  career,  was  making  the  cartoon  of  the 
Fight  for  the  Standard  at  the  battle  of  Anghiari,  at  which, 
in  1440,  Florence  overthrew  Niccolo  Piccinino.  Michel- 
angelo chose  an  event  in  the  war  with  Pisa.  We  have 
Benvenuto  Cellini's  evidence,  who  copied  the  cartoon  in 
1 5 1 3,  nine  years  later — for  he  writes  of  it,  and  his  witness 
is  of  supreme  value  :  "  Michelangelo  showed  a  number  of 
foot-soldiers,  who,  the  season  being  summer,  had  gone  to 
bathe  in  the  Arno.  He  drew  them  at  the  moment  that 
the  alarm  is  sounded  ;  and  the  men,  all  naked,  rush  to 
arms.  So  superb  is  their  action,  that  nothing  of  ancient  or 
of  modern  art  lives  which  touches  the  same  lofty  height  of 
excellence  ;  and,  as  I  have  already  said,  the  design  of  the 
great  Leonardo  was  also  most  admirably  beautiful.  These 
two  cartoons  stood,  one  in  the  Palace  of  the  Medici,  the 
other  in  the  hall  of  the  Pope.  So  long  as  they  remained, 
they  were  the  school  of  the  world." 

As  cartoons  they  began  and  ended  ;  they  were  destined 
never   to  be  painted  upon   the  walls.      Leonardo  da  Vinci 
began    painting   a   group    of  horsemen    on    the   wall,   but 
214 


OF   PAINTING 


abandoned  its  further  painting  for  other  schemes.     Michel-  WHEREIN 

angelo  was  called  to   Rome  in  the  early  part  of  1505  by  THERE 

Pope  Julius  II.,  and  eagerly  departed.     Benvenuto   Cellini  PASSES   BY, 

copied  Michelangelo's   cartoon   just   in   time  ;   for,  almost  ^^   THE 

immediately   afterwards,   a   jealous    and   wretched    painter,  ^^R-t!^^!^ 

one  Baccio  BandinelH,  destroyed  it.  VZr..    rV^^ 

^u     A1U      •       o    1        I,  ij  1       u     r  •  •      UNHAILED, 

The  Albertina  Gallery  holds  a  sketch  or  it  amongst  its  r^rjr^ 

famous  treasures  ;   and  a  fine   copy  of  it,  in  monochrome  qt  a  xj'r   qF 

painting,   is   at   Holkham    Hall,   the   seat   of  the   Earl   of  XHE   RE- 

Leicester.  NAISSANCE 

The  day  that  Michelangelo  left  Florence  on  his  eager 

second  journey  to  Rome,  at  the  call  of  the  Pope,  he  bade 

farewell  for  ever  to  such  peace  of  mind  and  happiness  as 

had  been  his. 

Michelangelo  went  back  to  Rome  to  meet,  in  Pope 
Julius  II.,  a  man  in  many  ways  his  own  equal — in  astound- 
ing energy,  boundless  ambition,  each  proud  in  his  own 
strength,  passionate  in  temper,  brooking  no  opposition, 
prone  to  sudden  outbursts  of  fury  when  thwarted,  generous, 
forthright,  and  of  great  essence. 

Raphael  has  left  us  his  famous  portrait  of  the  grey- 
bearded  old  Pope,  seated  in  his  chair.  The  portrait  of 
Michelangelo  at  the  Uffizi  holds  hint  that  the  Pope  had 
met  his  match. 

Julius  II.  galled  the  young  sculptor  by  months  of  delay, 
then  decided  upon  a  magnificent  monument  to  himself,  to 
be  raised  during  his  lifetime.  So,  at  thirty,  in  an  astound- 
ingly  rapid  time,  Michelangelo  placed  the  design  before  the 
delighted  Pope,  who  straightway  sent  him  off  to  Carrara 
to  quarry  the  marble  ;  and  so  eager  was  the  sculptor  to 
begin  upon  his  huge  task,  that,  in  the  eight  months  at 
Carrara,  he  blocked  out  two  of  the  figures  for  the  Tomb. 

215 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Back  in   Rome  by  November,  he  started  upon   the  great 

GOLDEN         Tomb  in  the  large  workshop  of  the  home  by  the  Vatican 
A-GE  that  the  Pope  put  at  his  service,  vs^ho  had  a  drav^bridge 

thrown  across  from  the  Corridore  to  the  sculptor's  rooms 
that  he  might  visit  him  whilst  at  work,  and  who  poured 
favours  upon  him.  The  Tomb  was  never  to  be  completed 
in  its  vast  original  design  ;  indeed,  source  as  it  was  of  many 
of  Michelangelo's  great  masterpieces,  it  was  to  become  a 
curse  in  his  life. 

The  huge  monument,  on  a  base  of  34  by  23  feet,  and 
raised,  roughly  speaking,  as  a  cube  and  a  half,  was  too  large  to 
set  into  St.  Peter's  Church,  whereupon  the  dauntless  Julius 
promptly  ordered  the  rebuilding  of  the  church  on  a  vast 
and  magnificent  scale  by  Bramante.  All  looked  smiling 
for  Michelangelo,  who  flung  himself  into  his  beloved  task 
with  hot  enthusiasm.  But  he  was  to  suffer  chill.  There 
came  a  day  when  a  load  of  marble  being  sent  from  Carrara, 
and  the  Pope  being  engaged  in  affairs  of  State,  Michel- 
angelo paid  the  freight  and  porterage  out  of  his  own  pocket. 
His  efforts  to  see  the  Pope,  and  to  get  the  money  repaid, 
were  met  by  cunning  evasions  of  the  Pope  to  see  him,  and 
at  last  by  an  order  that  Michelangelo  was  not  to  be  allowed 
into  the  presence  of  His  Holiness,  who  was  deeply  involved 
in  money  difficulties  over  his  wars.  The  sculptor  was  not 
of  the  temper  to  brook  the  treachery.  His  pride  deeply 
wounded,  Michelangelo  burst  into  a  fury  of  passion,  and 
with  a  contemptuous  "  henceforward  the  Pope  must  look 
for  me  elsewhere  if  he  wants  me,"  he  got  to  horse  and  made 
for  Florence,  where  he  brooded  on  his  wrongs,  disdainful 
of  the  five  pursuing  messengers  sent  in  hot  pursuit  by  the 
Pope. 

Thus  the  curtain  came  down  on  the  first  act  of  that 
"  tragedy  of  the  tomb  "  that  was  to  darken  Michelangelo's 
216 


OF   PAINTING 


life.     Well  might  Michelangelo  write,  "  I  am  thy  drudge,  WHEREIN 
and  have  been  from  my  youth  .  .   .  yet  of  my  dear  time's  THERE 
waste  thou  think'st  no  ill  ;  the  more  I  toil,  the  less  I  move  PASSES   BY, 
thy  pity.     Once  'twas  my  hope  to  raise  me  by  thy  height."  ^^   THE 
Neither  the  threats  of  the  Pope  nor  the  anxious  ursine:  of  ^■'^KlitLlb 

.u  1   .     '    f  •     ^    p-         Q  A     ■   ■       u  .u  ki     OF   ROME, 

the  sculptors  rriend,  riero  boderini,  who  was  thoroughly  TTT^TTATTi^n 

alarmed  by  the  repeated  orders  of  the  Pope  to  send  back  'r-rrp  ' 

the  artist  by  fair  means  or  by  force,  could  move  Michel-  qIANT   OF 

angelo.    But,  meanwhile,  Julius  ii.,  having  subdued  Perugia,  THE   RE- 

entered  Bologna  in  triumph  on  the  iith  of  the  November  NAISSANCE 

of  1506  ;  and  was  scarce  settled  in  the  town  before  he  sent 

to  the  Signoria  of  Florence  demanding  that  Michelangelo 

should  be  sent  to  Bologna.      Michelangelo  went,  "like  a 

man  with  a  halter  about  his  neck  "  ;  only  to  find  himself 

hailed  with  rejoicing  by  the  Pope,  who  straightway,  before 

he  left  for  Rome,  set  him  to  work  upon  the  great  bronze 

statue  of  himself  to  be  set  up  in  front  of  the  church  of  San 

Petronio — that  statue,  finished  in   the   February  of   1508, 

which  showed  the  Pope  seated,  with  one  hand  raised,  and 

of  which   the  Pope  asked,  when  it  was  set  up,  whether  he 

was    supposed    to    be    blessing    or    cursing    the    people    of 

Bologna,  and  was  met  by  Michelangelo's  deft  reply  :   "  Your 

Holiness  is  threatening  this  people,  if  it  be  not  wise  " — 

that  statue  which,  wrought  out  of  a   year  and  a  half  of 

Michelangelo's  genius,  was  flung  down  by  the  Bolognese 

when  Bentivogli  drove  the  Papal  Legate  out  of  the  town, 

when  the  bronze  was  melted  down  and  cast  into  a  huge 

cannon  that  the  jesting  citizens  nicknamed  "La  Giulia." 

Michelangelo,  back  in  Florence  in  March,  and  relieved 

by  his  father   on   the    13th   of  that   month   in    1508,   his 

thirty-third  year,  from  parental  authority,  was  for  settling 

in  his  native  city,  and  orders  were  pouring  in  upon  him, 

when  the  Pope  again  called  him  to  Rome. 

VOL.  I — 2  E  217 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Michelangelo  set  foot  in  Rome  for  the  second  time,  his 

GOLDEN         heart  fixed  on  the  completion  of  the  great  Tomb,  only  to 
AGE  find  that  cunning  rivals  had  worked  upon  the  aged  Pontiff's 

superstition  of  the  ill-luck  in  having  a  tomb  made  during 
his  lifetime — covering  all  risk  of  being  considered 
jealous  by  maliciously  suggesting  Michelangelo's  painting 
the  vault  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  instead — not  realising  his 
hidden  great  qualities  as  painter.  It  is  grown  into  a  habit 
to  pooh-pooh  the  likelihood  of  this  motive.  But  there 
is  not  a  shred  of  solid  evidence  to  disprove  it.  The  whole 
Renaissance  was  befouled  through  and  through  with  bitter 
rivalries,  that  flinched  neither  from  scruple  nor  murder  to 
attain  the  vilest  ends.  And  in  no  place  was  this  vileness 
more  murderous  and  deadly  than  in  the  home  of  the  Popes. 
It  reached  to,  and  sullied,  the  very  High  Altar  of  its 
beautiful  creed.  Michelangelo  stated  the  truth  mildly 
when  he  wrote  that  "  all  the  disagreements  which  I  have 
had  with  Pope  Julius  have  been  brought  about  by  the  envy 
of  Bramante  and  of  Raphael  of  Urbino,"  who  were  the  cause 
of  his  monument  not  being  finished  during  his  lifetime. 

Michelangelo  hesitated.  He  did  not  consider  himself 
a  painter.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  craft  of  fresco- 
painting.  He  felt  unfitted  for  the  task.  But  the  Pope 
doggedly  pressed.  So  it  came  that  on  the  loth  of  the  May 
of  1508,  with  great  reluctance,  Michelangelo  entered  upon 
the  work  of  painting  the  Decorations  of  the  Sistine  Chapel^ 
which  are  amongst  the  supreme  artistic  achievements  of 
the  hand  and  brain  of  mortal  men. 

The  Sistine  Chapel  was  built  for  the  especial  use  of  the 
Popes  ;  in  it  takes  place  the  scrutiny  of  the  ballot  for  the 
election  of  the  Pope  by  the  Conclave  of  Cardinals. 

He  faced  a  colossal  task  ;  and  once  having  entered  upon 
it,  he  flinched  from  nothing.     To  aid  him  in  the  craftsman- 
218 


OF   PAINTING 


ship  of  fresco,  he  called  in  six  Florentine  painters,  among  WHEREIN 
them  his  friends  Francesco  Granacci  and  Giuliano  Bugiardini,  THERE 
who,   however,   could   not   reach   the   majestic   ideals   that  PASSES   BY, 
Michelangelo   set   them  ;    he    bore    with    them    until    the  ^^   THE 
January  of  1509  ;  sent  them  away  ;  and,  blotting  out  what  ^^KJiElb 
painting  they  had  done,  shut  himself  up  in  the  chapel  to  ttt^ttatt  trn 
tackle   with    his    own    hands   his   vast   enterprise.     Alone,  t-ttt-  ' 

painting  upwards  upon  the  great  vault  of  the  ceiling  in  a  GIANT  OF 
strained  position,  the  fresco  dripping  on  to  his  face,  dis-  THE  RE- 
tressed  in  mind  and  with  terrible  fatigue  of  the  cramped  NAISSANCE 
body,  without  a  friend  with  whom  to  hold  communion, 
scarce  giving  himself  time  for  food,  he  had  created  by  the 
end  of  the  October  of  1509,  in  about  nine  months,  hundreds 
of  figures,  some  ten  feet  in  stature  ;  since  we  know  that 
the  impetuous  Pope  insisted  on  having  this  portion  of  the 
work  uncovered  on  the  ist  of  November  1 509,  that  he  might 
see  it,  though  not  complete  ;  and  three  years  afterwards, 
on  the  ist  of  November  15 12,  at  the  hot  insistence  of  the 
Pope,  who  had  already  threatened  to  have  him  flung  down 
from  the  scaffolding  if  he  did  not  hasten  the  work,  and  at 
last  struck  him  with  his  cane,  Michelangelo  uncovered  it, 
though  unfinished,  to  the  Pope's  wild  admiration.  The 
whole  of  Rome,  led  by  the  Pope,  who  indeed  rushed  to  the 
chapel  "  before  the  dust  raised  by  the  taking  down  of  the 
scaffolding  had  settled,"  flocked  to  see  the  great  achieve- 
ment which  is  the  supreme  work  of  the  Italian  Renaissance, 
the  sublime  and  majestic  utterance  of  its  art. 

Michelangelo  complained  that  the  impatience  of  the 
Pope  prevented  his  finishing  his  work  as  he  would  have 
desired.  Yet  the  vast  performance  could  scarce  have  been 
bettered.  Taking  a  stupendous  subject,  this  man,  who 
alone  in  all  his  age  had  the  power  to  utter  that  subject 
with  art  prodigious  enough  to  pronounce  its  sublime  music, 

219 


A   HISTORY 


THE  wrought  the  full  intensity  of  it  all  with  a  tragic  force  with 

GOLDEN         which  no  other  man  has  ever  been  gifted.     In  those  few 
AGE  years,  working  alone,  he  achieved  an  intensity  of  emotional 

utterance  in  which  he  gave  forth  the  significance  of  the 
Creation  of  the  World,  the  Fall  of  Man,  the  Flood,  the 
Second  Entry  of  Sin  into  the  World,  in  nine  great  spaces 
upon  the  centre  of  the  ceiling,  which  have  only  been 
equalled  in  sustained  power  and  dignity  of  utterance  by  the 
English  translators  of  the  Bible.  Continuing  his  vast 
drama,  he  uttered  the  need  for  Salvation,  foretold  by  the 
Prophets  and  Sibyls,  the  majestic  dignity  of  whose  figures 
are  the  wonder  of  the  ages  ;  and  he  wrought  throughout 
his  scheme  the  great  groups  of  the  ancestors  of  the  Mother 
of  Christ.  He  painted  twenty  superb  nude  figures  of 
Athletes,  of  which  any  one  would  have  established  the 
genius  of  any  painter.  He  had  set  his  heart  on  the 
creation  of  the  great  Tomb  :  baffled  in  his  vast  ambition,  he 
put  forth  his  hand  to  do  in  painting  what  he  had  been 
denied  in  sculpture,  and,  treating  the  vaulted  ceiling  of  the 
Sistine  Chapel  as  though  he  carved  it  with  the  chisel  of  his 
astounding  craftsmanship  in  sculpture,  he  raised  in  paint 
a  mighty  temple  towards  the  heavens — the  simplicity  of 
sculpture  is  over  it  all,  the  human  figure  he  glorified  in 
paint  employed  with  a  hand  that  wrought  the  will  of  a 
sculptor's  eyes.  And  he  who  looks  upon  this  wondrous 
work  of  a  man's  hand  may  realise,  as  though  Michelangelo 
had  created  it  in  solid  marble,  what  that  Tomb  would  have 
been  which  he  was  thwarted  in  wholly  achieving — may 
guess  in  some  fashion  what  were  the  deeps  of  the  grief  that 
tortured  the  soul  of  this  genius  of  a  man  whose  mighty 
poem  in  carven  marble  was  buried  like  a  splendid  dream  in 
the  baffled  hopes  that  were  flung  to  the  ground  in  the 
"  tragedy  of  the  tomb." 
220 


OF   PAINTING 


Pupil  of  Ghirlandaio  he  may  have  been,  but  one  cannot  WHEREIN 
help  but  be  struck  by  the  fact  that  it  was  to  Leonardo  da  THERE 
Vinci,  and  above  all  to  Signorelli,  that  Michelangelo  owed  PASSES    BY, 
the  largest  debt  of  what  revelation  in  painting  had  been  ^N    THE 
vouchsafed  to  him.  STREETS 

In   ICI2    Soderini,  the  old   friend  of  Michelangelo  in  ROME, 

Florence,  fled  from  that  city,  leaving  the   gates  open   to      ^  riAiLiLU, 
Cardinal  Giovanni  de'  Medici.  ptamt   htt 

Pope  Julius  II.  must  have  had  foreboding  of  the  coming  T-rrp  i^p 
of  the  Great  Reaper,  as  he  impatiently  hurried  Michel-  NAISSANCE 
angelo  to  that  uncovering  of  his  masterwork  in  the 
November  of  1512  :  within  four  months  his  violent  spirit 
and  fierce  energy  of  will  lay  serene  and  stilled,  on  the 
2 1  St  of  the  following  February  of  15 13.  Mayhap  he  felt 
the  Reaper  near  :  just  before  death  came  to  him  he  ordered 
Michelangelo  to  finish  the  great  Tomb,  appointing  his 
nephew.  Cardinal  Aginense,  and  Cardinal  Santi  Quattro,  to 
see  to  the  completion  of  the  great  design  ;  but  they,  baffled 
by  the  expense,  caused  Michelangelo  to  reduce  the  scheme, 
who  thereupon  recast  it,  and  with  feverish  eagerness  and 
delight  set  himself  to  its  completion.  It  was  not  to  be. 
Michelangelo's  friend  and  playfellow  at  the  Court  of  the 
Medici,  Cardinal  Giovanni  de'  Medici,  was  elected  Pope 
after  Julius  11.  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  great  celebrations  of  his 
enthronement  as  Pope  Leo  x.  were  done,  he  set  Michel- 
angelo, to  whose  bitter  protests  he  would  not  listen,  to 
decorate  the  fa9ade  of  San  Lorenzo  in  Florence  with 
sculptures ;  so  "  Michelangelo  left  the  Tomb,  and  betook 
himself,  weeping,  to  Florence." 

Indeed,  his  grief  must  have  been  great.  By  the  June 
of  this  year  of  15 15,  he  had  finished  the  Moses  and  the 
Captives  in  marble,  and  the  "reHef"  panels  were  ready  for 
the  casting  in  bronze.     The  two  years  of  his  precious  life 

221 


A   HISTORY 


THE  and  genius  that  were  now  wasted  to  the  world  in  sending 

GOLDEN         him  to  quarry  the  marble  for  the  fa9ade  of  San  Lorenzo 
AGE  would  have  seen  the  making  of  the  great  Tomb.     Nor  was 

the  fafade  to  reach  completion.  The  Pope's  only  brother, 
Giuliano  de'  Medici,  and  his  nephew,  Lorenzo,  dying,  he 
freed  Michelangelo  on  the  loth  of  the  March  of  1520 
from  his  bond  to  decorate  the  facade,  and  ordered  him 
instead  to  build  a  new  sacristy  to  their  memory,  and  raise  a 
monument  to  them  therein. 

Seizing  the  opportunity  to  fulfil  a  seven-years  old 
promise  to  a  Roman  patron,  Metello  Vari,  for  a  nude 
Christ  bearing  the  Cross,  he  sent  to  Rome  in  the  summer 
of  1 52 1  the  majestic  Risen  Christy  now  in  the  church  of  the 
Minerva,  the  hands  and  feet  being  left  in  the  rough  to 
prevent  damage  during  transport — which  were  finished  by 
the  crude  workmanship  of  Pietro  Urbino,  and  mauled  in 
the  doing.  But  Leo  x.'s  great  patronage  of  art  was  to  last 
all  too  short  a  while — he  died  on  the  ist  of  December  in 
1 52 1,  being  succeeded  by  the  pious  Dutchman  who  vowed 
the  Sistine  Chapel  "  nothing  but  a  room  full  of  naked 
people."  His  secret  desire  to  have  it  whitewashed  was 
balked  by  death;  and  1523  saw  Giulio  de'  Medici  reign 
in  his  stead  as  Clement  vii.  The  following  year,  Michel- 
angelo, having  finished  the  new  sacristy  at  San  Lorenzo, 
began  the  Medicean  tombs  to  be  placed  therein,  harassed 
the  while  by  the  building  of  a  library,  also,  that  the  Pope 
urged  upon  him. 

Then  fell  a  blow  upon  Rome.  The  disaster  of  the 
battle  of  Pavia  saw  Francis  i.  make  a  league  with  the 
Sforza  of  Milan,  Venice,  Florence,  and  Pope  Clement  vii. 
against  Charles  v.,  which  bred  nothing  but  further  disasters, 
ending  in  the  renegade  Connetable  de  Bourbon,  with  his 
horde  of  German  and  Spanish  soldiers-of-fortune,  taking 
222 


OF  PAINTING 


and  pillaging  Rome  in  1527 — the  Pope  being  besieged  for  WHEREIN 

nine  months  in  the  Castle  of  Saint  Angelo.     The  Floren-  THERE 

tines  promptly  shook  off  the  rule  of  the  Medici.      Michel-  PASSES   BY, 

angelo  flung  himself  with  hot  enthusiasm  into  the  struggle  ^^   THE 

for  liberty.     In   the   following   year   of   1528    he   lost  his  STREETS 

favourite  and  beloved  brother,  Buonarroto,  in  the  plague.      \  ROME, 

A  year  thereafter  Charles  v.  concluded  the  Peace  of  Barce-  ^^^^  ' 

.  TriE 

lona  with   Pope   Clement  vii.,  making  it  a  condition   that  pjAxr'p  Qp 

the  Pope  should  again  set  up  the  rule  of  the  Medici  over  xHE   RE- 

Florence.     The  citizens,  preparing  for  a  desperate  resistance,  NAISSANCE 

made  Michelangelo  the   Commissary-General  of  Defence, 

and  it  was  the  skill  with  which  he  fortified  the  city  that 

enabled  Florence  to  defy  the  attacks  of  the  Imperial  troops 

for   a  whole   year,   until   the   August  of   1530,   when    the 

treachery  of  Malatesta  Baglioni,  their  commander,  brought 

about  the  fall  of  the  city.     On  the  return  of  Alessandro  de' 

Medici  in  triumph  to  Florence,  Michelangelo  only  saved 

his  head  by  hiding  in  the  bell-tower  of  San  Nicolo  beyond 

the  Arno,  until  the  fury  of  revenge  was  quieted.      During 

the  siege  he  had  worked  upon  the  tombs  of  the  Medici  for 

the  sacristy,  besides  painting  the  panel  of  LeJa  and  the  Swan, 

which   he   gave   to   his   pupil   Antonio    Mini,   with   many 

cartoons    and   drawings,   as   a   dowry   for    his    two    sisters. 

Being  sold  to  the  King  of  France,  it  hung  at  Fontainebleau 

until  Louis  xiii.'s  day,  when  one  of  the  ministers  ordered 

its  destruction  as  an  indecent  picture,  but  it  was  said   to 

have  been  hidden  away. 

The  Pope's  anger  at  the  rebel  sculptor  soon  cooled,  and, 

thanks  to  the  Papal  envoy  at  Florence,  Baccio  Valori,  to 

whom  the  grateful  sculptor  gave  his  statue  of  Apollo,  now 

at  Florence,   Michelangelo  was  soon  at  work  again  upon 

the  Medicean  tombs.     But,  vexed  by  the  troubles  that  ever 

dogged  his  sublime  art,  torn  between  Julius  the  Second's 

223 


A   HISTORY 


THE  nephew,  the  Duke  of  Urbino,  who  demanded  the  comple- 

GOLDEN         tion    of  the    great    Tomb,   on    the    one    hand,   and    Pope 
AGE  Clement  vii.,  who  vowed  excommunication   if  he  ceased 

work  upon  the  Medicean  tomb  in  the  sacristy  at  Florence, 
he  at  any  rate  first  finished  the  wondrous  statue  of  the 
Madonna  nursing  the  Child  Christy  who  is  seen  straddling 
across  her  knee. 

The  superb  tombs  of  Giuliano  and  horenzo  de'  Medici  for 
the  sacristy  at  Florence,  each  of  the  princes  arrayed  like 
warriors  of  antiquity,  seated  in  a  niche  above  a  sarcophagus 
on  which  two  figures  recline — Lorenzo  in  sorrowful  medita- 
tion above  the  great  reclining  Evening  and  Dawn  (the 
Dawn  being  finished  in  1531,  soon  after  the  fall  of 
Florence),  Giuliano  seated  above  the  great  reclining  Night 
and  Day — are  amongst  the  mightiest  achievements  of  all  art. 
At  their  ending,  in  1534,  Michelangelo  was  to  leave 
Florence,  never  to  return.  The  figures  of  the  Medicean 
tombs  give  forth  his  passionate  love  of  liberty,  his  tragic 
longing  for  it,  and  his  gloomy  resentment  at  its  loss  to 
Florence,  clear  as  though  some  vasty  music  sounded  the 
tragic  intensity  of  his  feeling.  His  unfinished  bust  of 
Brutus  in  the  Bargello  repeats  it — his  proud  and  wide- 
ranging  spirit,  his  independent  and  lofty  soul  irked  by  the 
petty  tyrannies  of  Alessandro  de'  Medici. 

Michelangelo  was  now  on  the  edge  of  his  sixtieth  year. 
Raphael  was  dead  fourteen  years,  Leonardo  fifteen  years, 
Andrea  del  Sarto  three  years,  Correggio  was  to  die  in  the 
following  year.  Michelangelo  saw  Italy  in  wreckage. 
He  was  to  live  through  thirty  more  years  and  see  worse 
befall.  He  saw  Florence  iSlotted  out.  He  saw  the  In- 
quisition set  up  and  the  Italian  spirit  die  under  the  heel  of 
Spain. 

He    set    foot    in    Rome    again,    to    find    that    Pope 
224 


OF    PAINTING 


Clement  vii.  had  been  dead  a  couple  of  days,  and  that  a  WHEREIN 
Farnese,  Paul  iii.,  had  been  elected  in  his  stead.     Michel-  THERE 
aneelo  came  to  Rome  under  the  bond  to  make  the  tomb  of  PASSES   BY, 
Julius   II.    of  one   fa9ade   only,   using    the   marble   already  ^n.rL 

carved  for  the  cube  of  the  tomb,  carving  six  statues  by  his  ^^   domt? 
own  hand,  and  employing  other  artists  to  complete  the  rest  rjMHAir  FD 
of  the  work.     Again  he  was  to  be  balked.     Paul  iii. — he  XHE 
of  the  cunning  of  a  fox,  who  made  himself  infamous  to  GIANT   OF 
indulge  his  vicious  bastard  son — at  once  made  him  chief  THE   RE- 
architect,  sculptor,  and  painter  to  the  Vatican,  and  heedless  NAISSANCE 
of  his  prayers  and  beseechings,  set  him  to  the  task  of  paint- 
ing the  end  wall  of  the  Sistine  Chapel.     The  doors  of  the 
Sistine    Chapel   closed    again    upon   Michelangelo,   not   to 
open  again  until  the   Christmas   of   1541,  when   "to   the 
admiration  of  Rome  and  the  whole  world  "  was  uncovered 
his  great  Last  'Judgment.     Baffled  thirty-three  years  gone 
by,  at  thirty-three,  in  the  full  strength  of  early  manhood, 
he   had   begun   the   painting   of  the   great   ceiling   in   the 
Sistine  with  the  Creation  ;  at  sixty-four,  after  seven  or  eight 
years'  prodigious  toil,  he  gave  to  the  world,  as  the  last  act 
of  the  vast  drama,   the   Doom  of  all  created  things — the 
Destiny  that   leads   to   the   awful   majesty  of  the   Day  of 
Wrath   and  Judgment,  wrought  with   the   gloomy   tragic 
intensity  of  a  Dante. 

There  is  a  grim  irony  in  the  fact  that  whilst  the  work 
was  received  with  enthusiasm  by  the  greatest  artists  of  the 
age,  the  base  and  indecent  scribbler,  Pietro  Aretino,  should 
have  led  the  enemies  of  the  mighty  genius  to  condemn  it 
as  indecent,  owing  to  the  number  of  its  nudities  !  Michel- 
angelo refused  to  paint  any  draperies.  And  it  is  not  the 
smallest  part  of  the  gross  hypocrisy  of  the  times  that,  a  few 
years  later,  Paul  iv.  got  Michelangelo  to  allow  Daniele  da 
Volterra  partly  to  drape  many  of  the  figures — whereby  that 
VOL.  I — 2  F  225 


A   HISTORY 


THE  worthy  man  rendered  himself  immortal  by  the  nickname  of 

GOLDEN  "The  Maker  of  Breeches— II  Braghettone."     The  smoke 

AGE  of  altar-candles  has  done  its  best  to  blacken  the  master's 

work,  and  blot  out  the  shame  of  "  The  Maker  of  Breeches," 
but  even  though  the  majesty  of  it  all  shall  perish,  our 
Breeches  Maker  shall  live — the  slave  of  the  hypocrisies  of 
a  wondrous  age  and  as  wondrous  a  people.  So,  as  ever,  we 
see  society  grow  prude  as  it  grows  vicious.  Yet  one 
remembers  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure  how,  the  Pope's 
master  of  the  ceremonies,  one  Biagio,  playing  the  shocked 
censor,  Michelangelo  painted  him  into  the  Hell,  and,  the 
indignant  man  complaining,  the  Pope  wittily  replied  that, 
had  it  been  Purgatory,  he  might  have  helped  him,  but  in 
Hell  was  no  redemption. 

Luigia  de'  Medici  had  been  dead  forty  years  when 
Michelangelo,  in  his  sixties,  met  the  second  woman  who 
was  to  leave  a  profound  impression  upon  his  life  and  soul. 
Vittoria  Colonna  was  the  first  woman  of  her  age.  The 
friendship  of  these  two  great  spirits,  lofty  in  their  ideals, 
impelled  by  mutual  admiration  and  liking,  was  the  source 
of  much  of  Michelangelo's  song — to  her  he  poured  out 
his  passion  in  several  of  his  finest  sonnets,  as  at  her  death, 
when  he  wrote,  "  Her  soul  that  quickened  mine  hath 
sought  the  skies."  It  was  a  strange  platonic  passion — 
strange  as  the  life  of  the  man.  Vittoria  Colonna  was  the 
daughter  of  Fabrizio  Colonna,  and  the  inconsolable  widow 
of  the  Marquis  of  Pescara,  and  about  forty-two  years  of 
age.     She  formed  a  circle  of  celebrities  about  her. 

The  Last  Judgment  done,  its  mighty  significance  prob- 
ably lost  on  all  who  beheld  it  beyond  the  mere  talking 
about  it,  Paul  in.  hustled  the  artist  to  the  painting  of  the 
side- walls  of  the  Cappella  Paolina.  Close  on  seventy  when 
he  started  upon  it,  and  seventy-four  when  on  the  two 
226 


OF   PAINTING 


frescoes  of  The  Conversion  of  St.  Paul  and  The  Martyrdom  ^WHEREIN 

St.  Peter  he  used  the  brush  for  the  last  time,  he  owned  at  THERE 

last  that  his  powerful  frame  was  surrendering:  its  prodig-ious  PASSES   BY, 

energy  and  strength — he  confessed  to  Vasari  that  he  did  his  ^^ 

.  STREETS 

last  fresco  "with  great  effort  and  fatigue."     It  may  be  that  T)r\j</f-c 

something  of  the  fire  had  gone  out  of  his  body's  force,  as  TivruATT -pA 
out  of  the  wondrous  significance  of  his  mastery  in  art  ;  but  -yYIE 
even  whilst  he  painted  these  frescoes,  he  finished  at  last,  GIANT   OF 
forty  years  after  he  first  designed  its  splendid  intention,  the  THE   RE- 
modified  design  of  the  great  tomb  of  Pope  Julius  ii.,  in  the  NAISSANCE 
church  of  San  Pietro  in  Vincoli,  that  had  been  the  tragedy 
of  his  artistic  life.       It  was  a  sad   belittling  of  his  great 
design,  but  it  gave  us  the  great  Moses,  and  the  two  astound- 
ingly  fine  female  figures  of  Active  and  Contemplative  Life. 

His  solemn  pledge  to  the  dead  Pope  fulfilled,  Michel- 
angelo fell  into  a  heavier  gloom  ;  a  profound  Melancholy 
took  him  for  her  own.  Wearied  by  the  fierce  plaguings 
of  his  career  and  destiny,  wracked  with  religious  gloom, 
yearning  for  peace  and  rest,  but  unable  to  thrust  aside  his 
innate  energy,  his  famed  sonnet  proves  that  his  art  no 
longer  satisfied  him  :  "  Painting  nor  sculpture  now  can  lull 
to  rest  my  soul,  that  turns  to  His  great  love  on  high."  He 
was  not  to  be  allowed  rest.  The  great  church  of  St.  Peter's, 
to  the  magnificent  rebuilding  of  which  the  Pope  Julius  ii. 
had  set  Bramante — to  hold,  with  fitting  splendour,  Michel- 
angelo's vast  monument  to  him — had,  at  the  death  of 
Bramante,  passed  under  the  design  of  Raphael,  at  whose 
death  it  had  passed  to  Antonio  da  Sangallo,  who  died  in 
the  October  of  1546,  the  year  after  Michelangelo  finished 
Julius  II. 's  reduced  tomb.  Michelangelo,  still  at  work  on 
the  frescoes  of  the  Cappella  Paolina,  was,  in  spite  of  his 
refusal,  and  his  plea  that  architecture  was  not  his  art,  so 
bullied  and  pestered  into  the  business  by  Paul  in.,  that  he 

227 


A   HISTORY 


THE  consented  to  become  the  architect  of  the  great  church  of 

GOLDEN         Catholic   Christendom  on  condition  of  receiving  no  pay- 
AGE  ment    for    it,   since    he   was    henceforth    only   desirous    to 

practise  his  art  as  a  devotional  act. 

It  w^as  shortly  after  his  appointment  as  architect  of 
St.  Peter's  that,  in  1 547,  the  romantic  and  beautiful  friend- 
ship of  Michelangelo  and  Vittoria  Colonna  w^as  brought  to 
an  end  by  her  death,  w^hich  left  Michelangelo  "  dazed  as 
one  bereft  of  sense." 

Cancelling  the  alterations  that  had  been  made  to 
Bramante's  original  design,  Michelangelo  designed,  on 
absolute  symmetry,  Bramante's  original  Greek  cross,  so  that 
the  vast  dominant  note  from  vvrithin  and  without  should  be 
a  great  cupola.  Destroying  Sangallo's  work,  he  put  down 
all  jobbery  with  a  stern  hand — increasing  thereby  the  swarm 
of  his  enemies,  who  thenceforth  intrigued  night  and  day 
against  him.  But  Paul  iii.,  who  died  in  1 549,  and  Julius  iii. 
who  reigned  in  his  stead,  knew  full  well  that  Michelangelo's 
art  meant  immortality  for  them.  The  vast  pile  rapidly 
arose  under  the  mighty  will  of  Michelangelo  ;  all  intrigues 
were  brushed  aside  ;  and  by  1557  the  rugged  old  artist  of 
eighty-two  saw  the  huge  cupola  itself  come  to  its  beginnings. 
But  at  eighty-two,  even  the  body  of  a  Michelangelo  knows 
the  vigour  of  youth  no  longer.  Unable  now  to  direct  the 
actual  building,  he  set  up  the  wooden  model  which  may 
still  be  seen  at  the  Vatican  ;  and  whilst  his  assistants 
worked  from  it,  the  rugged  old  man,  from  the  windows 
of  his  house,  watched  by  the  hour  together  the  mighty 
cupola  begin  to  swell  to  roundness  against  the  blue  of  the 
heavens. 

But   the  twilight  of  his  life  was  to  bring  gloom  and 
bitter  sorrow  to  Michelangelo.     His  two  brothers  died  in 
Florence,   and    his    nephew   Lorenzo,   son   of  his   beloved 
228 


OF   PAINTING 


brother  Buonarroto,  alone  remained  to  him  of  all  his  near  WHEREIN 

kin.     Then    the    loss    of    his    faithful    servant,    Francesco  THERE 

Urbino,  filled  him  with  erief.     But  his  restless  and  ener-  PASSES   BY, 

eetic  will  drove  his  hand  to  prodigious  creation  still — he  AniL 

STREETS 
planned  the  improvements  on   the    Capitol — designed  the  ponat? 

church    of   San    Giovanni    dei    Fiorentini  —  designed    the  rjKrfTAjT  pr^ 

monument  to  Giangiacomo  de'  Medici  that  Leone  Leoni  -rHE 

raised  in   Milan   Cathedral — planned  the  changing  of  the  GIANT   OF 

Baths  of  Diocletian  into  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  degli  THE   RE- 

Angeli — poured  out  sketches  of  palaces,  statues,  and   the  NAISSANCE 

like  for  others  to  carry  out.      However,  he  knew  joy  in  his 

nephew   and   that   nephew's    marriage.     He   was    at    least 

wealthy,  and  his  habits  were  frugal.     Sleeping  little,  and 

working  at  night  upon  his  sculpturings,  wearing  a  cap  with 

a  candle  stuck  in  the  front  of  it  whereby  to  give  him  light, 

he  lived  his  lonely  life,  dreaming  art.     Princes  courted  his 

society,  the  Count  of  Canossa  was  proud  to  claim  him  kin. 

The    twilight    of   his   old   age  was   serene  ;    he   knew  the 

affection  that  he  had  poured  upon  his  kin.     Yet  his  will 

was  irked  by  the  smallness  of  his   endeavour — he  poured 

forth  in  his  famed  sonnet  his  lament  at  the  loss  of  his  once 

vigorous   creative   force.     The  restless  power  of  the  man 

fought  his  ninety  years.     On  the  edge  of  ninety  the  old  giant 

took  his  walks  abroad  careless  of  all  weather.     To  his  old 

friend  Tiberio  Calcagni's  protest,  meeting  him  on  the  14th 

of  February  1564  in  the  street,  rain-drenched,  he  replies 

fiercely,  "  Let  me  be.     I  am  ill,  and  can  nowhere  find  rest." 

The  next  four  days  saw  him  crouched  by  the  fire  in  an 

arm-chair,  "oppressed  with  continual  drowsiness."     At  last 

the  old  Adam  rebels  within  him.     He  must  shake  off  this 

sluggardy.      He  will  go  for  a  ride — he  calls  for  his  horse 

and  tries  to  mount — he  fails.     He  has  not  the  strength. 

Without  a  word,  he  goes  back  again  to  the  arm-chair,  where, 

229 


A   HISTORY 


THE  in  the  afternoon  of  the  i8th  day  of  the  February  of  1564, 

GOLDEN         a  little  before  five   of  the   clock,  the  giant  of  the  Italian 

AGE  Renaissance  yielded  up  his  mighty  spirit,  as  though  he  slept, 

into  eternity.      Peace  came  to  his  troubled  life  only  at  its 

ending. 

But  the  poor  body  was  to  be  vexed  with  strife  even 
dead.  His  nephew,  Leonardo  Buonarroti,  reaching  Rome 
some  three  days  after  Michelangelo's  death,  found  Rome, 
which  had  made  the  dead  man  a  citizen,  passionately  set 
upon  his  burial  there.  Michelangelo's  dying  wish,  to  be 
buried  in  his  own  city  of  Florence,  they  flatly  refused,  and 
would  not  allow  his  body  to  be  moved.  It  is  said  that 
Michelangelo  dead  was  smuggled  out  of  Rome  in  a  bale 
of  merchandise,  and  so  brought  to  Florence,  to  be  buried 
amidst  great  pomp  and  solemnity  in  the  church  of  Santa 
Croce.  But  the  sublime  group  of  the  Pieta,  wrought  by 
Michelangelo's  hand  with  intent  for  his  own  tomb,  was 
never  set  thereon. 

It  was  through  the  sublime  genius  of  Michelangelo  that 
the  late  Renaissance  in  Central  Italy,  which  had  found  its 
chief  home  in  Florence,  discovered  its  supreme  and  mighty 
utterance.  Michelangelo  was  the  complete  voice  of  the 
Florentine  achievement.  With  Michelangelo  and  Raphael, 
the  early  fifteen-hundreds  were  to  see  art  depart  from 
Florence  into  Rome,  and  take  up  her  habitation  amongst 
the  ruins  ;  and,  at  the  passing  of  Michelangelo,  the  ruins 
engulfed  her,  blotting  her  out. 

Born  in  the  same  year  as  Fra  Bartolommeo,  he  died  on 
the  edge  of  ninety,  in  1564,  forty-four  years  after  Raphael 
had  been  laid  in  his  grave,  eighteen  years  after  Raphael's 
chief  disciple,  Giulio  Romano,  died.  When  death  took 
this  giant  of  the  Renaissance,  the  fifteen-hundreds  had 
230 


OF   PAINTING 


passed  into  their  second  half-century.     The   Renaissance  in  WHEREIN 
Central  Italy  was  dead.  THERE 

Michelangelo  ever  claimed  the  bays  as  a  sculptor  alone.  PASSES   BY, 
Though  poet,  architect,  and  painter  of  astounding  achieve-  THE 

ment,  and  reaching  to  vast  significance  in  all  things  that  ^^J^'^^^^ 
he  essayed,  he  signed  his  letters,  even  whilst  he  wrought  TjT^rr  a  tt  pA 
the    mighty    masterpiece    of  his    ceiling-paintings    in    the  -pHE 
Sistine  Chapel,  as  though  in  very  arrogance  of  the  know-  GIANT   OF 
ledge  of   that   in  which   lay  his   supreme   power   and   his  THE   RE- 
immortal  fame,  as  Michelangelo^  sculptor.  NAISSANCE 

He  stands  forth,  rugged,  uncompromising,  stern,  honest, 
virile,  as  the  mighty  Seer  of  the  Renaissance,  like  some 
ancient  Hebrew  prophet,  reckless  of  all  authority,  bent  on 
rousing  mankind  to  the  vast  dignities  with  which  the 
Creator  has  endowed  them,  scorning  his  fellows  for  con- 
cerning themselves  with  petty  toys  and  vulgar  brawls, 
when  the  heights  lay  before  them  for  the  conquering. 
He  felt  the  grandeur  of  life,  its  sublime  powers,  its  vast 
experience  ;  and  he  uttered  these  majestic  significances, 
gifted  with  an  astounding  craftsmanship  that  created  a  vast 
and  awe-compelling  art  attune  to  the  prodigious  emotions 
that  stirred  within  him,  and  which  he  wrought  with  a 
resonant  and  mighty  music  that  compels  homage. 

Over  all  he  wrought  is  a  tragic  gloom  that  utters  itself 
in  his  sonnets  as  in  his  vasty  art,  whatsoever  the  craft  he 
employed  to  utter  that  art — for  his  stern  eyes  saw  the 
failure  of  Italy  to  reach  to  the  splendid  realm  of  Liberty 
that  had  stirred  her  to  life.  His  eighty-nine  years  of  storm- 
tossed  living  saw  Italy  a  land  of  slaves,  tied  and  bound 
under  the  heels  of  contemptible  tyrannies  ;  he  saw  his 
beloved  Florence  blotted  out ;  he  saw  the  arts  decay  ;  and 
he  died  in  the  bitter  knowledge  that  sacerdotal  despotism 
had  slain  liberal  thought  in  the  Church  which  was  so  dear 

231 


A   HISTORY 


THE  to  him,    and   which    had    created    the   knowledge  it  now 

GOLDEN         feared. 

AGE  Italy  had   been   first   amongst  the  nations  in   the  new 

Awakening  ;  and  his  dying  eyes  beheld  that  she  was  become 
the  last — lying  prostrate,  her  eager  life  gone  out  of  her,  at 
the  gates  of  the  New  Life  that  she  had  unlocked  to  the 
world.  He  looked  upon  his  people,  seeing  that  the  light 
shone  before  them,  but  they  could  not  understand. 

Steeped  in  the  text  of  the  Bible,  the  discourses  of  Plato, 
and  the  poems  of  Dante  ;  brooding  over  the  fiery  sermons 
of  Savonarola  ;  he  found  Solitude  his  best  companion  for 
mighty  thinking.  Entertaining  few  friends,  and  shunning 
the  society  which  was  the  joy  of  Raphael,  his  solitary 
work  upon  the  Sistine  Chapel  stands  out  in  strange  con- 
trast with  Raphael  at  work  amongst  a  crowd  of  assistants. 
To  his  eager  soul.  Liberty  was  the  flame,  his  country  was 
his  child,  his  passionate  love  of  justice  a  stern  incentive. 
Grim  and  biting  of  speech  he  was — and,  likely  enough, 
folk  flinched  from  his  critical  eye.  Perugino  he  bluntly 
pushed  aside  as  goffo^  a  dunderhead  in  art.  Looking  upon 
a  handsome  youth,  when  told  that  he  was  the  artist  Francia's 
son,  he  grimly  answered,  "Your  father  makes  better  men 
by  night  than  by  day.'* 

So,  Michelangelo,  an  intensely  devoted  son  of  his 
Church,  stepped  beyond  the  limits  of  the  thinking  from 
which  that  Church  now  shrank,  and  boldly  accepted 
ancient  philosophy  with  his  faith.  His  art  is  the  full 
utterance  of  what  the  Renaissance  should  have  been  to 
Italy — but  Italy  flinched  from  it.  In  the  great  upheaval 
of  the  Reformation,  the  Church  entered  into  a  struggle 
with  the  North  and  lost  ;  but  she  awoke  to  the  more  astute 
policies  of  the  Counter  Reformation,  and  saved  the  Latin 
peoples  to  herself.  The  schism  of  the  North  drove  the 
232 


OF   PAINTING 


Papacy,  which  had  aforetime  led  thought,  into  blind  enmity  WHEREIN 
to  advancing  ideals  ;  and  the  vast  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  that  is  THERE 
Michelangelo's  supreme  achievement  in  architecture,  w^hich  PASSES   BY, 
should  have  been  the  home  of  the  union  of  faith  with  the  THE 

leaders  of  the  new  culture,  welcoming  progress  and  science  ^„   t> 
that  its  pontiffs  created  by  their  fostering  care,  lost  its  wider  tjvttta  tt  pfA 
significance  as  the  shrine  of  the  Christian  world,  and  nar-  XHE  ' 

rowed  its  dominion  over  the  hearts  of  man.  GIANT   OF 

Yet  the  pontiffs  of  the  Church  might  well  shrink  from  THE  RE- 
the  state  of  affairs  into  which  the  new  Paganism  was  NAISSANCE 
leading  the  old  and  simple  faith.  The  overwhelming 
genius  of  Michelangelo  is  blamed  as  having  been  so  vast 
that  it  left  nothing  but  hordes  of  imitators  to  debauch  its 
significance.  To  say  this  is  wholly  to  misunderstand  the 
age.  Michelangelo's  supreme  gifts  uttered  themselves  in 
an  age  wherein  decay  was  on  every  side.  Literature  was 
sunk  into  mere  academic  pedantries  and  frivolities,  or  into 
the  obscenities  of  such  as  Aretino.  Michelangelo  dwarfs 
such  men  in  the  eyes  of  history  ;  but  once  his  splendour 
was  removed,  there  was  nothing  but  the  mediocre  or  vicious 
ineptitude  of  the  Italy  of  the  age  to  take  its  place.  In  the 
realm  of  painting,  these  mediocre  artists  naturally  essayed 
to  employ  Michelangelo's  methods  ;  but  like  all  academic 
effort,  they  only  exaggerated  his  faults,  and  were  too  puny 
to  understand  his  significance.  Their  Michelangelesque 
efforts,  however,  are  not  to  be  mistaken  for  the  real  effort 
that,  throughout  Italy,  during  the  next  century,  was  made 
to  develop  the  range  of  painting,  but  has  been  flung  into 
the  middle  of  the  Decadence  by  the  muddled  incapacity  of 
the  writers  to  grasp  its  artistic  significance.  But  of  that, 
later. 

Michelangelo   compelled    the   art   of   Sculpture    to    its 
utmost  powers  along  the  limits  of  line,  which  the  Greeks 

VOL.  I 2  G  233 


A   HISTORY 


THE  had  developed,  until  he  made  it  utter  his  passionate  sensing 

GOLDEN         and  profound  imagination.      He  compelled  painting,  so  far 
AGE  as  the  genius  of  Central  Italy  had  developed  its  gamut  of 

utterance — that  is  to  say,  in  the  realm  of  drav^ing  and  line 
— until  he  could  employ  the  whole  v\ride  gamut  of  the 
Central  Italian  orchestration  to  give  forth  his  imagery  in 
terms  of  paint  employed  in  the  spirit  of  sculpture.  With 
such  sublime  powder  and  august  vision  did  he  achieve  this 
sombre  splendour,  that  his  majestic  art  completely  ex- 
hausted the  whole  potentialities  of  the  Florentine  genius 
and  craftsmanship,  and  left  it  nothing  more  to  say.  In  the 
very  act  of  his  supreme  endeavour  and  accomplishment, 
Michelangelo  revealed  the  limitations  of  the  Florentine 
genius,  even  whilst  he  proved  what  a  Titan  could  do  within 
those  limitations. 

It  is  for  this  very  reason  that  all  after-endeavour  of  the 
succeeding  years,  all  attempt  to-day — and  the  folly  is  wide- 
spread— to  go  back  to  the  Florentines  for  the  craftsmanship 
of  painting,  is  bound  to  failure  ;  for  not  only  has  the  Italian 
genius  uttered  itself  once  for  all  in  supreme  fashion,  and 
therefore  made  modern  rivalry  of  it  absurd,  but  the  artist  of 
to-day  can  never  hope  to  surpass  in  an  artificial  effort  what 
was  achieved  by  the  giants  in  a  language  that  was  their 
natural  speech. 

And  even  whilst  we  stand  amazed  and  in  homage 
before  the  mighty  masterpieces  of  the  Florentine  achieve- 
ment in  art,  it  is  ever  well  to  keep  in  mind  that,  great  as  it 
was,  the  art  of  painting  has  developed  and  advanced  to 
heights  of  emotional  utterance,  of  which  even  Michel- 
angelo never  dreamed.  What  the  Italians  were  digging 
out  of  craftsmanship  with  prodigious  labour,  is  now  the 
possession  of  any  gifted  student.  And  he  who  looks  upon 
the  masterpieces  of  the  great  dead,  and  considers  them  the 

234 


OF  PAINTING 


complete  and  ultimate  achievement  of  art,   is  wholly  in-  WHEREIN 
capable  of  receiving  the  thrill  of  artistic  impression,  and  is  THERE 

simply  the   product  of  the   pedant   and   the   book-learned  PASSES   BY, 

•  •  IN    THF 

critic.  ^^^    ^  "^ 

STREETS 

A/r-  1    1         1  ,  .  .1         .  ,  •    OF   ROME, 

Michelangelo    stands    out    a    giant  amidst    giants — his  tjnHAILED 

terrible  and  sublime  art  towering  above  the  achievement  of  XHE 

his  age.     He  is  the  mighty  tragedian,  the  great  dramatist  GIANT  OF 

of  Italy.      He  had  the  virile  brain  and  strong  right  hand  to  THE  RE- 

save  his  people,  but  they  could  not  and  would  not  under-  NAISSANCE 

stand  him.     Just  as  the  frivolous  spirit  of  the  people  was 

content   with   sacerdotalism   as    their    religion,   and    found 

Raphael's  pleasing  and  genial  art  "divine,"  and  stood  aside 

in  homage  when  the  young  gallant,  arrayed  like  a  prince 

and  with  a  princely  retinue,  passed  in  the  streets  of  Rome  ; 

so  they  looked  askance  at  the  grim  and  deep-soul'd  man 

who  went  by  in  lonely  moodiness,  his  eyes  troubled  with 

the  loss  of  real  liberty  under  the  trappings  of  splendour. 

So  bookish  men  find  "  beauty  "  in  Raphael's  prettier  art,  and 

miss  the  awful  significance  of  Michelangelo's  far  mightier 

essence. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  how  Michelangelo,  when  the 
Laocoon  was  discovered  in  1506,  greeted  it  as  "a  miracle  of 
art."  Here  was  a  work  of  art  that  fitted  his  own  Italy. 
He  employed  the  nude  human  figure  as  the  supreme  design 
of  God's  hand  ;  and  it  was  significant  of  the  real  state  of 
Italy  that  the  censure  of  an  indecent  and  trivial  poet  should 
have  led  to  the  "purification  "  of  Michelangelo's  art  by  the 
"  Maker  of  Breeches."  The  human  form  was  his  delight — 
"  Nor  hath  God  deigned  to  show  Himself  elsewhere  more 
clearly  than  in  human  forms  sublime,  which,  since  they 
image  Him,  alone  I  love."  He  bent  his  strong  will  to 
master  its  every  detail,  dissecting  the  dead,  though  "  it  turned 

235 


A   HISTORY 


THE  his  stomach  so  that  he  could  neither  eat  nor  drink  with 

GOLDEN         benefit."     The  human  form  he  employed  for  every  decora- 
■^^^  tion — indeed,  it  was  the  whole  symbol  through  which  he 

uttered  the  emotions  ;  whether  he  felt  the  profound 
tragedy  of  life,  its  sublime  essence,  its  majestic  possibilities, 
the  vast  significance  and  terrible  mystery  of  it  all,  it  was  in 
terms  of  the  human  body  that  he  uttered  these  things. 

His  eye  and  hand  were  so  creative,  his  skill  so  certain, 
his  calculation  so  sure,  that  he  saw  at  once  what  a  block  of 
marble  would  yield  to  his  wondrous  chisel  ;  as  though  the 
masterpiece  lay  entombed  therein  but  awaiting  its  release  at 
his  hands,  he  set  to  work  upon  the  rough-hewn  block  with 
forthright  will  that  never  hesitated  ;  the  splinters  flew 
under  his  reckless  skill,  as  he  cut  down  to  the  figure  that 
came  to  life  under  his  astounding  wizardry.  There  is 
witness  that  in  his  old  age  he  would  cut  away  more  waste 
marble  from  the  block  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  than  three 
younger  men  in  a  couple  of  hours ;  and,  as  he  sang,  "  when 
my  rude  hammer  to  the  stubborn  stone  gives  human 
shape,"  his  daring  chisel  would  so  closely  follow  the  forms 
of  the  figure  that  rapidly  came  into  being,  that  the  slightest 
error  would  have  wrecked  the  whole.  It  need  only  be 
remembered  that  the  great  David  was  hewn  straight  from 
the  marble  without  any  model  of  clay  whatsoever.  So 
with  his  painting.  We  know  that  he  entered  upon  his 
work  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  on  the  loth  of  the  May  of 
1508 — and  had  finished  the  ceiling  on  the  ist  of  November 
1509 — but  even  this  colossal  achievement  of  a  large  number 
of  figures,  many  ten  feet  high,  was  done  within  these 
eighteen  months,  for  it  is  said  that  he  dismissed  all  pupils, 
destroyed  the  work,  and  started  alone  on  the  January  of 
that  year — if  so,  creating  this  vast  work  in  ten  months. 
Fresco  can  only  be  worked  upon  whilst  wet,  so  that  every 
236 


OF   PAINTING 


day's    painting    reveals    itself — Sir     Charles    Holroyd,    on  WHEREIN 
making  careful  examination  of  the  sublime  figure  of  Adam  THERE 
in  the  Creation,  found  that  it  was  painted  in  three  days'  PASSES   BY, 
work.  IN   THE 

STRPPXS 
His  body's  strength  must  have  been  prodigious.      So  ^„   pp,A*T- 

cramped    w^as    his    pow^erful    frame    by   painting    the   vast  tj^h  a  jj  pf) 

ceiling  above  his  face  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  that,  for  some  XHE 

time   afterwards,   he   had   to   place   a   book  or  manuscript  GIANT   OF 

above  his  head  to  read  it.     "  I  've  grown  a  goitre  by  dwell-  THE   RE- 

ing    in    this    den  " — his    sonnet    runs :    "...   My    beard  NAISSANCE 

turns  up  to  heaven  ;  my  nape  falls  in,  fixed  on  my  spine. 

...  A   rich    broidery  bedews  my    face    from   brush-dips 

thick  and  thin  ;  my  loins  into  my  paunch  like  levers  grind. 

.  .  .   False    and    quaint,    I    know,    must    be    the   fruit   of 

squinting   brain  and   eye  ;    for,   ill  can  aim  the  gun    that 

bends  awry.   .   .   .   Foul  I  fare,  and  painting  is  my  shame." 

Michelangelo  was  a  supreme  draughtsman.  He  pro- 
duced out  of  sheer  line  an  intensity  of  feeling  that  is  akin 
to  the  deep  resonance  of  a  mighty  organ.  His  whole  art 
was  founded  on  form — on  line.  Well  might  he  write  on 
the  drawing  of  his  pupil  Antonio  Mini  :  "  Draw,  Antonio  ; 
draw,  Antonio  ;  draw,  and  waste  no  time  "  ;  his  urging  to 
his  pupils,  like  Donatello's,  was  ever,  "  I  give  you  the 
whole  art  of  sculpture  when  I  tell  you — draw  !  '* 

Tragic  and  forceful ;  stating  his  senses  with  a  sublime 
intensity,  largeness  of  conception,  grandeur  of  form,  and  a 
noble  and  dignified  breadth  of  style  ;  concerning  himself 
with  majestic  types  rather  than  with  character,  he  was  a 
true  son  of  Italy.  He  was  a  Greek  in  the  love  of 
liberty,  in  the  love  of  the  nude  whereby  to  utter  his  art ; 
he  was  Italian  in  his  instincts,  his  vision,  and  his  soul. 
His  art  was  as  a  gulf  apart  from  the  art  of  Greece — a  gulf 
of  Hebraic  and  Christian  feeling,  but  above  all  Hebraic. 

237 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Whilst  the  Borgias  were  turning  the  Vatican  into  a  den  of 

GOLDEN         thieves  and  home  of  harlots,  Michelangelo,  resenting  the 
AGE  inevitable   doom    and   destruction    that  awaits    all    wicked 

things,  urged  a  noble  and  strenuous  life  that  should  meet 
the  inevitable  with  fearless  courage,  careless  of  the  con- 
sequences. To  everything  to  which  he  put  his  hand  he 
brought  the  fire  of  genius,  and  achieved  it  with  rare  dis- 
tinction !  He  pleaded  ever  that  he  was  only  a  sculptor — 
he  created  in  painting  sublime  masterpieces.  He  demurred 
to  being  appointed  an  architect — he  achieved  the  great 
cupola-crowned  temple  of  Christendom,  and  in  the  doing 
stands  a  giant  above  all  the  architects  of  his  age. 

Steeped  in  the  tradition  of  the  Hebrew  writers,  holding 
communion  with  the  thought  of  Dante,  of  Plato,  and  of 
the  Christ — and,  like  them,  a  lonely  figure  and  an  alien 
amongst  his  own  people — "  To  me  they  portioned  darkness 
for  a  dower;  dark  hath  my  lot  been  since  I  was  a  man  " — 
Michelangelo  brooded  on  the  doom  of  his  fellow-men,  taken 
up  with  foolish  things.  This  homage  to  Dante  is  seen  in 
the  fact  that  when,  in  151 8,  the  Florentines  petitioned 
Leo  X.  to  transport  the  bones  of  Dante  from  Ravenna  to 
Florence,  the  artist  offered  to  raise  a  statue  worthy  of  the 
poet.  How  deeply  he  was  influenced  by  the  poet  his  Last 
'Judgment  proves.  He  stood  dismayed  at  the  corruption 
about  him  everywhere.  In  the  capital  of  Christendom 
he  saw  holy  things  sold  for  money  to  be  employed  for 
Julius  II. 's  wars.  "  Here  helms  and  swords  are  made  of 
chalices;  the  blood  of  Christ  is  sold  so  much  the  quart: 
.  .  .  and  short  must  be  the  time  ere  even  His  patience 
cease."  Alone,  a  gloomy  soul  apart,  in  an  age  given  up  to 
sensuality  and  vice,  and  hypocrisy,  and  sham,  Michelangelo 
saw  in  the  human  form  the  divine  that  lay  bound  and 
imprisoned  therein. 

238 


OF   PAINTING 


Savonarola  struggled  and  died  in  order  that  he  might  WHEREIN 

stay  the  demoralisation  of  society  by  the  pagan  invasion  ;  THERE 

he  strove  with  all  his  strength  to  prevent  the  enslaving  of  PASSES   BY, 

the    liberties    of    the    people    by    her    astute    and    crafty  THE 

STRFFTS 
bureess-tyrants.      He    died    and    failed.       For    these    aims  ^^   ^^^.^^ 
.  .  .  OF   ROwIE 

also  Michelangelo  lived  and  wrought  and  died — and  failed,  .tx-tt  mt  t^^^ 

rr.1       TV>r     1-    •  1  UN  HAILED, 

The  Medici  conquered.  THE 

Savonarola,    Dante,    and     Michelangelo    all    saw    the  GIANT   OF 
dangers   inherent   in   the  fickleness  of  their  race — all  saw  THE   RE- 
the  dangers  inherent  in  the  paganism  of  the  New  Culture  NAISSANCE 
— but  they  were  all  men  of  gloomy  soul,  who  saw  life  like 
the   Hebrews   of  old,    not    in    the    spirit    of   the    Gospels. 
For   them   the    tragic    Puritanism    that    sees    the    Day   of 
Judgment    like    a    mighty    threat    hang    over    all    human 
endeavour — for   them   the    ascetic   denials — for    them    the 
law  Thou  Shalt  Not.     The  vast  charity  of  the  Christ,  the 
deep  pity,  the  blithe  humanity  had  little  significance. 

But  the  awakening  life  that  pulsed  throughout  the 
world  was  young  and  eager  for  experience.  Italy  was 
corrupt  on  the  one  hand,  ascetic  and  gloomy  on  the 
other.  Of  his  age,  Michelangelo  was  the  mightiest. 
And  it  must  ever  be  remembered  that  much  of  what  he 
painted  was  forced  upon  him.  What  he  desired  to  do, 
when  he  did  it,  reveals  a  loftier  and  more  creative  sense  of 
the  fulfilling  of  life.  He  fills  his  august  figures  with  the 
sense  of  mastery — they  stand  out  as  gods  amongst  men. 
Critics  and  writers  are  wont  to  urge  that  the  great  painters 
of  the  Renaissance  wrought  their  art  in  an  age  wholly 
sympathetic  to  that  art.  We  know  that  it  was  not  so. 
What  did  the  courtiers  and  ladies  of  the  Borgias  about  the 
Papal  Court  understand,  or  care  for,  in  the  superb  Pieta  of 
Michelangelo's  genius  .?  In  intellect  he  was  a  good  son  of 
the  Church ;  in  the  sensing  that  creates  art  he  was  wholly 

239 


PAINTING 


THE  unchristian.     Pity  and  humility,  gentleness  and  hope,  are 

GOLDEN         wholly  alien  to  him.     It   is   when   his  genius  ranges  un- 

^^^  trammelled  that  his  utter  contempt  for  his  age  is  revealed, 

and  he  sounds  as  with  a  mighty  trumpet  the  power  and 

will  of  man,  his  destiny  to  conquer  the  earth,  the  forthright 

forcefulness  and  energy  that  are  his. 

The  Fairy  Prince  of  the  New  Thought  had  tripped 
into  Italy  and  kissed  the  Sleeping  Beauty;  and  she,  arising, 
breathing  the  fragrant  air  of  Liberty,  finding  the  garden  of 
Italy  too  close  and  tropical,  departed  with  him  into  the 
West,  where  Freedom  was  blossoming  over  the  land,  and 
mediasvalism  crumbling  away  before  the  forthright  will  of 
men  inspired  by  the  discovery  of  a  new  world  to  wider 
conquest  of  life,  and  urged  by  a  new  inquisitiveness  to 
achieve  a  fuller  experience. 

Of  Michelangelo's  direct  pupils  and  assistants  were 
Marcello  Venusti  (died  1579),  Sebastian  del  Piombo, 
and  Daniele  Ricciarelli  known  as  Daniele  da  Volterra 
(1509-1566). 


240 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

WHEREIN  THE  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY  PERISHES 
AMIDST  THE  RUINS 

ANDREA  DEL  SARTO 

i486  -  1531 

We  have  seen  that  in  Piero  di  Cosimo's  studio  was  a  youth  WHEREIN 

called    Andrea    d'Agnalo,    who    was    to    become    famous  THE   RE- 

as    Andrea    del    Sarto — he    being    the   son    of   a    tailor  NAISSANCE 

(sarto)  of  Florence.      Pupil  of  Piero  di  Cosimo  he  became,  ^^   ITALY 

but  caught  little  of  his  master's  manner.      He  looked  upon  ^-^^^^^-t^^ 

•  •  .  AMIDST 

the  art  of  Era  Bartolommeo,  and  it  remained  with  him.  ^^^^   t^ttt^t^ 
TT       1         1      1    1-  1  11  r        '      THE   RUINS 

rle  also,  alas  !    listened  too  much   to  the  pasans  or  praise 

poured  out  upon  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Michelangelo — 
indeed,  these  giants  might  well  have  been  sent  to  overthrow 
Italian  art  by  the  very  majesty  of  their  greatness. 

Andrea  del  Sarto  had  studied  Michelangelo's  cartoon  of 
the  Battle  of  Pisa;  and  through  it,  and  through  Michel- 
angelo's master  work,  was  revealed  to  him  that  sculptor- 
feeling  for,  and  sculptor-treatment  of,  the  human  figure, 
and  its  arrangement  in  his  design.  The  brilliant  young 
fellow  won  early  to  repute  by  his  facile  touch,  breadth  of 
handling,  and  capacity  for  stating  the  depth  of  atmosphere 
surrounding  the  figure,  for  his  mellow  colouring,  and  his 
command  of  greys.  He  brought  into  the  achievement  of 
Florence  a  new  revelation — essentially  of  the  fifteen- 
hundreds — that  marked  advance  in  the  skill  of  painting 
towards  a  fuller  expression  of  the  impression  upon  the 
vision. 

VOL.  I — 2  H  241 


A   HISTORY 


THE  There  has  been  for  several  generations  a  vogue  to  speak 

GOLDEN         with  contempt  of  the  art  of  this  true  painter.      He  was 
AGE  wont  to  be  called  by  the  fatuous   name   of  "  the  faultless 

painter,"  and  his  faultlessness  is  now  dubbed  the  "  perfection" 
of  superficiality.  He  who  can  see  but  superficiality  in 
Andrea  del  Sarto's  superb  Portrait  of  a  Sculptor  at  the 
National  Gallery  in  London,  rather  than  one  of  the  supreme 
portraits  of  the  whole  Italian  Renaissance,  must  be  strangely 
lacking  in  the  faculty  to  sense  Art.  This  superb  Portrait 
of  a  Sculptor^  loi^g  held  to  be  a  portrait  of  himself,  shows 
not  only  his  mastery  of  brushing  and  his  command  of  state- 
ment in  giving  the  light  and  shade  on  flesh  seen  through 
its  varying  depths  of  atmosphere,  but  his  supreme  power  of 
seizing  the  melody  that  is  in  greys.  Another  famous 
masterpiece  is  the  Portrait  of  a  Lady^  who  seems  to  have 
been  his  wife,  with  a  volume  of  Petrarch  in  her  hands. 
His  superb  portraits  of  himself,  which  have  been  neatly 
described  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  autobiographies  in  the 
world,  hold  the  grim  and  tragic  tale  of  the  mighty  promise 
of  his  career,  wrecked  by  the  girl  Lucretia  del  Fede,  the 
extravagant  and  black-hearted  jade,  who  roused  a  mad 
infatuation  in  him  which  was  as  disastrous  to  him  as  artist 
as  his  marriage  with  her  was  to  him  as  man.  Her  face 
appears  in  his  several  Madonnas,  in  The  Holy  Family  at  the 
Borghese  Gallery  in  Rome,  in  the  Madonna  delle  Arpie  at 
the  Ufiizi  in  Florence — a  long,  handsome  face,  that  drew 
him  to  dishonours  manifold,  to  villainies,  and  to  self- 
contempt.  For  her  vile  soul  he  flung  his  talents  into  the 
mere  making  of  money.  Her  heartless  extravagances  and 
vile  conceit  kept  him  in  a  state  of  perpetual  money-troubles. 
At  last  he  flung  up  his  handsome  and  lucrative  employment 
by  Francis  i.,  King  of  France,  whose  confidence  and 
trust  he  foully  betrayed,  filching  the  large  sums  of  gold 
242 


XXVI 

ANDREA    DEL    SARTO 

i486  -  1531 

"THE  SCULPTOR" 

(National  Gallery) 

This,  one  of  the  most  haunting  portraits  of  the  whole  Italian  achieve- 
ment, was  long  supposed  to  be  the  portrait  of  Andrea  Del  Sarto  himself. 
It  displays  the  master's  art  in  its  most  perfect  form. 


OF    PAINTING 


entrusted  to  him  by  the  king  for  the  purchase  of  works  WHEREIN 
of  art.  THE   RE- 

The  genius  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  must  be  judged  by  his  NAISSANCE 
portraits ;  and  so  judged  he  stands  amongst  the  great  painters.  ^^  ITALY 
But  he  can  also  take  hi^h  place  with  his  larger  work.  He  PERISHES 
was  harassed  by  the  neighbourhood  of  the  vast  genius  of  ^l^^zr 
Michelangelo  ;  in  dreading  comparison  by  the  side  of  the 
other,  he  allowed  his  eyes  to  see,  and  his  hand  to  create,  the 
academic  thing; — instead  of  being  content  to  be  great  and 
express  himself,  he  compelled  his  hand  to  employ  the  brush, 
and  his  eyes  to  see  through  the  vision  first  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci  and  then  of  Michelangelo — and  the  habit  of  aping 
the  grand  manner  grew  upon  him.  Michelangelo's  manner 
of  drawing  draperies  compelled  him  to  follow  ;  and  his 
efforts  to  rival  their  sculpturesque  sense  led  him  to  the 
statuesque  posings  which  slowly  overwhelmed  the  signifi- 
cance of  his  own  vigorous  hand  and  the  reality  of  things  as 
discovered  to  his  own  subtle  seeing.  So  he  lost  his  gaiety 
and  joy  in  life,  and  gave  his  strength  to  painting  poses  and 
draperies.  The  spiritual  and  significant  things  departed 
from  his  studio,  and  pose  and  draperies  became  the  tricks 
of  a  mere  clever  painter.  But  the  inborn  vigour  and 
strength  of  vision  would  not  let  him  sink  wholly  into  the 
academic  habit.  Even  when  the  burden  of  Michelangelo 
was  heaviest  upon  him,  he  roused  himself  at  times  and 
painted  a  figure  with  astounding  power.  His  Last  Supper 
is  a  masterpiece. 

When  Andrea  del  Sarto  paints  at  his  best,  as  in  his 
portraits,  he  stands  in  achievement  beside  Giorgione  and 
Titian,  reaching,  indeed,  in  some  strange  fashion,  as  near  as 
the  Florentine  temperament  and  tradition  allowed  him,  into 
a  silvery-keyed  rivalry  with  their  vision  and  utterance.  Of 
this   searching   sense    of   colour   and    forms    he    gave    also 

243 


A   HISTORY 


THE  abundant  proof  in  his  Dispute  concerning  the  Trinity,    Amongst 

GOLDEN         his    greatest   works   are   the  frescoes   in  the   Church  of  SS. 
AGE  Annunxiata^  gay,  bHthe,  filled  with  the  joy  of  life,  in  which, 

however,  his  frank  vision  gives  way  as  he  paints  each  new 
fresco  to  the  aim  of  grandeur  that  is  forcing  itself  into  the 
fashion,  until  in  the  other  famous  frescoes  of  the  Life  of 
St.  John  the  Baptist  in  the  Chiostro  dello  Scalzo  at  Florence, 
he  is  torn  this  way  and  that  between  his  innate  and  superb 
gift  of  painting  the  figure  in  its  depth  of  atmosphere,  and 
the  overwhelming  of  this  high  artistry  by  the  new  grand 
manner  in  empty  draperies. 

But  Andrea  del  Sarto's  silver-grey  harmonies,  his  trans- 
lucent liquid  blendings  of  lustrous  cool  colours,  these  are 
purely  himself;  nowhere  else  in  Italy  shall  you  find  the  like, 
and  he  wrought  them  with  exquisite  skill  of  craftsmanship. 
These  and  his  large  sense  of  the  resonance  of  light  and 
shade  created  in  the  subtle  play  of  the  atmosphere  upon 
the  object  which  it  surrounds,  will  make  his  work  live — 
and  one  day  bring  him  back  his  bays.  His  lack  of  deep 
emotion,  his  absence  of  inspiration,  these  will  ever  hold  him 
back  from  the  seats  of  the  mightiest ;  but  at  least  he  can  stand 
on  the  steps  to  the  throne.  He  never  fell  to  the  triviality  of 
prettiness  ;  his  taste  is  balanced,  he  condescends  to  no  mere 
tricks  of  thumb — yet  his  very  skill  of  hand  must  have 
sorely  tempted  him — his  hand  hesitates  or  errs  never  ;  his 
craftsmanship  is  solid.  Strong,  tranquil,  serene,  his 
thoroughness  was  not  shaken  even  when  he  heard  Lucretia's 
lover  whistle  for  her  at  the  twilight's  ending  of  the  day, 
saw  her  restless  eagerness  to  be  rid  of  posing  for  the 
Madonna. 

At  the  studio  of  Piero  di  Cosimo  was  a  lad  from  Milan, 
one  Franciabigio  (1482-1525),  who  became  not  only  the 
244 


OF   PAINTING 


fellow-Student  but  the  faithful  friend  of  Andrea  del  Sarto,  WHEREIN 

who  greatly  influenced  his  art.      He  is  remembered   as   a  THE   RE- 

portrait-painter  and  for  his  frescoes,  of  which  frescoes  are  NAISSANCE 

two   in   the   Chiostro  dello  Scalzo  that  display  the  strong  ^^    ITALY 

influence  of  Andrea  del  Sarto.     It  is  interesting  to  note  that  PERISHES 

AMIDST 
Vasari's  judgment  proclaimed  Franciabigio  as  his  favourite  ^^^  ptitn<; 

painter    in    fresco.       Franciabigio,    or    Francia    Bigio    or 

BiGi,  painted  many  of  the  portraits  long  given  to  Andrea 

del  Sarto  and  to  Raphael. 

Amongst  Andrea  del  Sarto's  direct  pupils  were  Pontormo 

and  Rosso  Rossi,  or  Rossi  de'  Salviati  or  Rosso  Fioren- 

TiNO   (1494-1541),  strongly  afl^ected  by  Michelangelo  and 

by  Pontormo.     This  Rosso  was  a  friend  of  Vasari's.     He 

spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  and  died,  in  France  at 

the  Court  of  the  French  king,  where  he  was   known   as 

Maitre  Roux, 

PONTORMO 

1494    -    1556 

Jacopo  Carucci,  more  widely  known  as  Jacopo  da 
Pontormo,  was  born  at  Pontormo,  or  Puntormo,  in  the 
May  of  1494,  the  son  of  a  painter  Bartolommeo  Carucci. 
The  lad  lost  his  father  at  five  and  his  mother  at  ten,  and 
was  placed,  if  we  are  to  go  by  Vasari's  gossip,  under 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  then  under  Albertinelli,  then  under 
Piero  di  Cosimo,  from  whom  he  passed  to  the  care  of 
Andrea  del  Sarto  in  15 12,  in  his  eighteenth  year. 

Pontormo  was  a  man  of  genius,  who  wrought  portraits 
and  wall-paintings  which  prove  him  possessed  of  qualities 
which  might  have  lifted  him  to  very  high  achievement ; 
but  who  fell  under  the  spell,  and  thence  to  imitation,  of 
Michelangelo,  to  end  as  an  academic  who  saw  high  art  in 
vast  nudes.     As  a  portrait-painter,   however,   he   came  to 

245 


A   HISTORY 


THE  greatness,  as   is  shown  in  his  famous  panel  of  Cosimo  dei 

GOLDEN         Medici  at  San  Marco,  and  his  Lady  with  a  Dog  at  Frankfurt. 
AGE  When  Pontormo  thrust  the  vision  of  his  masters  from 

him  and  uttered  his  own  impressions,  he  painted  upon  the 
wall  the  blithe,  fresh  fancy  of  the  fresco  of  Vertumnus^ 
Pomona^  and  Diana,  a  lunette  painted  round  a  window  at 
the  Royal  Villa  near  Florence,  Poggio  a  Caiano,  with  a 
sense  of  colour  and  design  that  set  him  amongst  the  fore- 
most artists  of  his  day.  Such  achievements,  and  his  great 
portraiture,  blot  out  the  riots  of  fantastic  nudes  in  the 
Michelangelesque  imitation  which  led  him  along  the  road  to 
meaningless  falsities.  The  ambitious  design,  on  which  he 
spent  eleven  years  of  his  life,  in  his  Michelangelesque  style, 
the  huge  frescoes  in  the  church  of  San  Lorenzo  at  Florence, 
of  The  Deluge  and  The  Last  judgment,  have  long  been 
covered  with  whitewash.  Happily,  his  powerful  por- 
traits did  not  tempt  him  to  sink  his  own  individuality, 
and  their  rich  colour  and  lively  air  are  his  best  hostages  to 
fame.  He  died  in  Florence  at  the  end  of  1556,  being 
buried  in  the  church  of  the  Annunziata  there,  on  the 
2nd  of  January  1557,  his  fresco  of  the  Visitation  in  the 
court  of  the  Annunziata  standing  as  his  fine  epitaph. 

In  Pontormo's  studio  was  trained  a  pupil,  afterwards  to 
come  to  fame  as  Bronzino,  who  assisted  him  in  many  of 
his  works,  and  finished  Pontormo's  huge  frescoes  in  the 
church  of  San  Lorenzo,  before  the  whitewash  swallowed 
them. 

BRONZINO 

1502  -  1572 

Angelo  Allori,  called  Bronzino,  was  born  near  Florence, 

at  Monticelli,  in  1502,  and,  as  has  been  seen,  became  pupil 

to  Pontormo,  and  assistant  and  completer  of  his  unfinished 

designs.       Bronzino    is    also    sometimes   confusingly  called 

246 


OF   PAINTING 


Angiolo  di  Cosimo.     Born  when  Michelangelo  was  twenty-  WHEREIN 
seven,  and  at  the  height  of  his  powers  ;   growing  to  man-  THE   RE- 
hood  when  Michelangelo's  compelling  genius  and  gigantic  NAISSANCE 
achievement  wholly  overwhelmed  the  art  of  Florence  and  ^^   ITALY 
Rome,  Bronzino  died  some  eight  years  after  the  giant  of  PARISHES 
the  Renaissance  was  laid  in  his  grave.      He  lived,  therefore,  ^^^   ditins 
in  the  supreme  years  of  the  Florentine  achievement  ;  and 
his  dying  eyes  beheld  the  complete  collapse  of  that  achieve- 
ment.     In   Venice,    beyond   the   mountains,  the  Venetian 
achievement  was  at  its  highest  pitch  of  splendour,  Titian 
being  but  a  youth  when  Bronzino  first  saw  the  light. 

Bronzino  was,  like  Rosso  or  Rossi  de'  Salviati,  a  close 
friend  of  Vasari,  the  interesting  writer  of  art  gossip  and 
biography  of  the  Italian  Renaissance. 

It  is  the  present  fashion  to  decry  the  art  of  Bronzino  ; 
and  perhaps  the  exaggerated  estimate  of  his  day  has  been 
answerable  for  the  injustice.  In  Bronzino  was  born  to  the 
later  years  of  the  Renaissance  of  Italy  a  portrait-painter  of 
marked  power,  and  one  w^ho  was  to  have  a  prodigious 
influence  throughout  Europe  in  the  years  to  come.  So 
markedly  influenced  by  his  master,  Pontormo,  that  it  would 
be  difficult  to  say  where  the  master's  hand  finishes  and  the 
assistant  takes  up  the  brush  in  the  work  they  wrought 
together  ;  and  so  closely  akin  in  their  qualities  that  the 
experts  are  hard  put  to  it  to-day  sometimes  to  decide 
whether  master  or  pupil  painted  certain  portraits. 

Bronzino  was  poet  as  well  as  painter,  running  much  to 
burlesques,  not  devoid  of  naughtiness  ;  and  the  poems  of 
his  pen  reveal  a  questionable  laxity  in  affairs  of  sex  not 
wholly  absent  from  his  painted  allegories.  But  when  John 
Addington  Symonds,  an  astoundingly  clear-sighted  critic 
of  the  art  of  the  Renaissance  when  we  consider  the  atti- 
tude   towards    art    in     the    eighteen-seventies,    condemns 

247 


A   HISTORY 


THE  Bronzino's  fine  "Allegory  "  of  Venus  and  Cupid  with  Time  and 

GOLDEN         Foliy^  at  the  National  Gallery  in  London,  as  "detestable," 
AGE  one  suspects  his  "  propriety,"  and  questions  his  taste.     It 

was  the  Victorian  censor  of  all  the  moralities  burning  in  a 
strange  vessel.  Nor  is  it  easy  to  discover  therein  the  "  defects 
of  Raphael's  and  Michelangelo's  imitators,"  for  it  recalls 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  ;  Bronzino  had  been  looking 
upon  a  far  different  master  of  the  allegory,  called  Botticelli. 
And  the  last  charge  that  can  be  laid  against  it  is  that  it 
shows  either  "want  of  thought"  or  of  "feeling,"  or  is 
"  combined  with  the  presumptuous  treatment  of  colossal 
and  imaginative  subjects,"  nor  that  this  combination 
"renders  it  inexpressibly  chilling."  He  who  finds  this 
somewhat  hot  work  of  art  to  be  "  chilling  "  must  lack  the 
sense  of  temperature.  Bronzino  understood  the  French 
King,  for  whom  he  painted  it — Francis  the  First — better 
than  the  critics  have  understood  the  significance  of  art. 
Indeed,  whether  the  lack  of  "  chill  "  in  this  design  be  an 
affair  of  bad  art  or  good  art,  according  to  Symonds  is  of 
little  account.  In  it  is  much  good  art,  whatever  the 
morals,  for  we  see  therein  the  real  significance  of  the  artist 
uttering  with  truth  the  emotion  that  was  in  him — it  is 
a  fine  achievement.  It  is,  besides,  significant  of  his  age. 
Bronzino,  essaying  the  religious  picture — as  in  his  large 
and  dull  "  Limbo  "  or  Descent  of  Christ  into  Hell — is  seen 
affecting  the  religiosities  without  conviction — employing 
a  subject  which  has  small  place  in  his  senses,  in  order  to 
create  a  turmoil  of  the  nudes  with  what  he  took  to  be  the 
grand  manner  of  Michelangelo — painting  the  nude  for  the 
sake  of  showing  off  his  academic  capacity  for  painting 
the  naked,  wholly  without  spiritual  significance,  lacking 
largeness  of  design,  poverty-stricken  in  the  colour-sense. 
It  was  exactly  in  his  pagan  allegories  that  he  came  nearest 
248 


XXVII 

SCHOOL  OF 

BRONZING 

1502      -       1572 

FLORENTINE  SCHOOL 
"PORTRAIT  OF  A  BOY" 

(National  Gallery) 

This  portrait  of  a  noble  fledgling  gives  no  full  idea  of  the  superb 
achievement  of  Bronzino  in  portraiture.  His  Venus-piece  in  the  same 
gallery  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  treasures  in  this  great  collection. 

Painted  on  wood.     4  ft.  2^  in.  h.  x  2  ft.  w.  (1-282  x  0*609). 


OF   PAINTING 


to  Striking  fire  from  the  rigid,  cold,  hard  anvil  of  his  art.  WHEREIN 
It  is  interesting  to  note  how  a  certain  quaint  trick  of  placing  THE   RE- 
the  legs  in  a  sideways  slant  of  somewhat  charming  awk-  NAISSANCE 
wardness  prevailed  with  him — it  is  seen  in  this  allegory  of  ^^    ITALY 
Venus  and  Cupid  that  shocked   Symonds  ;   it  recurs  in  his  PERISHES 
fine  St.  John  the  Baptist  at  the  Borghese  Gallery  in  Rome,  ^^^D^T 
where    again    there   is   no   spiritual    atmosphere    but    con- 
siderable power  ;   it  is  seen  at  its  worst  in  the  Dead  Christ 
at  the  Uffizi,  though  he  realises  an  astounding  sense  of  the 
limpness   of  the    dead    thereby  ;   and   it  is  even    employed 
with  considerable   grace   in   the  Venus  and  Cupid  at  Buda- 
Pesth.     Indeed,  Venus  and  Cupid  ever  brought  out  the  best 
qualities  of  his  art — struck  fire  from  the  steel  that  his  cold 
colouring  was  otherwise  liable  to  suggest — as  the  picture  at 
the   Colonna   Palace  in   Rome   again   proves.     In  all  is  a 
frank  delight  in  lusty  passion  that  runs  to  naughtiness.      In 
The  Holy  Family  at  the  Pitti   in    Florence  is  considerable 
charm,    if  little    religious    atmosphere  ;   but   the   religious 
picture  as  a  rule  brought  out  all  Bronzino's  worst  defects  ; 
and  in  The  Virgin  at  the  Uffizi  he  uses  his  favourite  awk- 
wardness of  the  leg  to  a  degree  that  is  vile  bad  drawing,  and 
causes    discomfort    through    the    vision    to    the    senses,   as 
though  a  bully  twisted  one's  arms. 

But  the  moment  Bronzino  stands  before  a  portrait,  he 
braces  himself  to  remarkable  achievement.  The  Portrait  of 
a  Boy  at  the  National  Gallery  in  London  is  not  his,  though 
the  most  widely  known  of  his  accounted  works,  and  by  no 
means  to  be  compared  with  his  finest  portraiture — indeed, 
we  here  have  the  critics  attributing  it  now  to  Pontormo, 
now  to  Rosso  Fiorentino  (Salviati),  and  then  to  others — pro- 
bably because  it  is  richer  in  colour  than  Bronzino's  usual 
painting.  Bronzino  left  us  an  astoundingly  fine  gallery  ot 
the  personages  of  the  Florentine  Court  of  his  day,  being  for- 
voL.  I — 2  I  249 


A   HISTORY 


THE  tunately  employed  to  that  end  by  the  Grand  Duke  Cosimo  i. 

GOLDEN         — most   of  these  are   to   be   seen  in    Florence.      Not   only 
AGE  are  his  portraits  searching  works   of  art,  and   marked   by 

rare  distinction  ;  not  only  do  they  display  keen  sense  of 
character  and  insight  into  personality,  though  the  painting 
be  hard  enough  at  times,  and  the  colour  somewhat  chill  ;  but 
they  had  a  wide-reaching  effect  in  setting  the  style  and  man- 
ner of  portrait-painting  throughout  almost  every  Court  in 
Europe  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  the  conviction  that 
Velasquez,  directly  or  indirectly,  owed  a  heavy  debt  to 
them.  Velasquez  was  so  original  and  virile  a  realist,  that 
whatever  convention  he  employed  must  have  been  a  very 
overwhelming  one  in  his  day  ;  and  to  the  influence  of 
Bronzino  much  of  that  convention  guides.  Even  Mr. 
Berenson,  a  most  astute  observer  of  the  comparative  rela- 
tions of  the  artistry  of  painters,  seems  to  have  been  struck 
by  this  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  look  upon  the  portraits  by 
Bronzino  of  Eleanor  a  da  Toledo^  of  Prince  Ferdinand^  and  of 
the  girlish  Princess  Maria  de*  Medici  at  the  Uffizi  in 
Florence,  without  thinking  of  the  great  Spaniard. 

Of  Bronzino's  famous  renderings  of  Cosimo  /.,  himself, 
in  armour,  his  hand  upon  his  helmet,  and  of  the  head  of 
Cosimo  I.  alone,  the  Uffizi,  the  Pitti,  the  Royal  Gallery  in 
Berlin,  hold  superb  examples  ;  besides  the  Duke  Cosimo  I. 
with  the  Sprig  of  Myrt/e,  Berlin  possesses  also  a  good  Eleanor 
of  Toledo^  as  does  the  Uffizi  this  same  Eleanor  of  Toledo 
and  her  child^  Don  Garcia.  The  little  Medici  Garcia, 
Bronzino  painted  several  times,  from  the  fat,  laughing  little 
fellow  holding  the  goldfinch,  to  bigger  boyhood.  The 
Uffizi  contains  also  the  superb  portrait  of  little  Mary  de* 
Medici  as  a  little  girl,  and  another  of  the  head  of  the  same 
Mary  de*  Medici  as  a  girl,  as  well  as  the  Mary  de*  Medici 
head  and  bust  with  hand  on  breast.  There  also  are  the 
250 


OF   PAINTING 


Lucretia  Panciatichl — the  head  and  bust  of  A  Toung  Lady,  WHEREIN 
her  hand  holding  a  book — the  Man  in  Armour  ;  whilst  at  THE   RE- 
the  Borghese  is  the  half-nude  bust  of  Lucretia  with  dagger  NAISSANCE 
held  upwards  in  her  slender  fingers,  which   Morelli  vows  ^^   ITALY 
to  the  art  of  Bronzino.  PERISHES 

AMIDST 
Dying  in   Florence  on  the  23rd  of  the  November  of  ^Trp   rtttnto 

1572,  on  the  edge  of  seventy,  as  the  fifteen-hundreds 
reached  their  twilight,  the  last  mighty  spirit  of  the  Floren- 
tine Renaissance,  the  great  heart  and  vigorous  body  of 
Michelangelo  eight  years  in  the  grave,  Bronzino  was  the 
last  master  of  significance  in  the  art  of  Florence.  With 
him  the  Renaissance  wholly  ends  in  Tuscany  and  the  south. 
In  Venice,  across  the  mountains  to  the  north,  the  Re- 
naissance still  brought  forth  splendour ;  the  Renaissance 
came  to  later  birth  in  Venice,  but  was  even  now  also  well- 
nigh  spent.  Titian  was  near  his  ending,  with  but  five 
years  to  live  ;  Paolo  Veronese  died  sixteen  years  later ; 
Tintoretto  was  not  to  see  the  fifteen-hundreds  out,  dying 
twenty  years  after. 

The  fifteen-hundreds  were  the  Golden  Age  of  the 
Renaissance  in  Italy  ;  the  first  fifty  years  of  the  century 
saw  the  Renaissance  in  Tuscany  at  its  full  flowering — the 
last  half  saw  it  wholly  wither  and  die.  When  1600 
struck,  the  Renaissance  throughout  Italy  was  at  an  end  ; 
and  a  far  vaster  and  mighter  art  was  about  to  be  born. 

Italy,  making  one  final  and  colossal  effort  through  the 
sublime  personality  of  Michelangelo,  essayed  to  utter  the 
full  significance  of  the  New  Thought  ;  but  Michelangelo, 
for  all  his  almost  superhuman  powers,  balked  and  flung 
back  by  the  utter  corruption  throughout  the  land,  baffled 
most  of  all  by  the  utter  corruption  of  Rome,  as  you  shall 
read    in   the   despair   of  his   sonnets,   like    his   own    Italy, 

251 


A   HISTORY 


THE  unable  wholly  to  rid  himself  and  his  soul  from  the  shackles 

GOLDEN         and  dead  weight  of  a  great  historic  past,  reeled  back  even 
AGE  as  he  created  the  mightiest  artistic  achievements  of  his  age, 

cursing  Beauty,  which  he  found,  for  all  its  sublime  splen- 
dour, to  be  but  Dead  Sea  Apples  in  his  mouth,  whilst  the 
deeper  man  in  him  craved  for  mightier  adventures  of  the 
soul. 

To  the  Italians  of  the  After-Renaissance  we  will  return 
again  ;  but  before  betaking  us  over  the  Apennines  to  our 
Venetian  journey,  let  us  estimate  the  endeavour  of  the 
genius  of  Tuscany  and  the  peoples  lying  adjacent  thereto, 
to  utter  the  revelation  of  their  age  through  their  senses. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  Florentine  genius  broke  into 
two  streams,  the  one  largely  tributary  to  Siena,  that  con- 
cerned itself  with  a  suave  beauty  rooted  in  mysticism — 
through  Fra  Angelico,  Filippo  Lippi,  Botticelli,  Ghir- 
landaio,  and  Filippino  Lippi,  culminating  in  Raphael  ;  the 
other  concerned  with  tragic  power,  deep  rooted  in  realism 
and  the  human  form — through  Donatello,  Masaccio,  the 
Pollaiuoli,  Verrocchio,  and  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  culminating 
in  Michelangelo.  And  he  who  puts  aside  the  worn-out 
theories,  rigid  classifications,  and  labels  of  the  professors 
and  museum-masters,  which  have  no  relation  whatever  to 
art,  and  are  but  a  rough  and  ready  way  of  dealing  with 
schools,  and  who  instead  gazes  at  the  Florentine  achieve- 
ment throughout  the  Renaissance,  allowing  his  whole 
senses  to  surrender  themselves  to  the  impression  created 
upon  him  by  the  works  of  that  achievement,  will  notice 
simply  this  :  The  early  endeavour  of  the  men  of  the 
Renaissance,  wearied  of  mere  illumination,  was  to  paint  on 
flat  surfaces  the  visions  aroused  in  their  senses  by  the  new 
life  that  was  surging  through  their  world — the  first  eflx)rt 
is  always  to  draw  in  outline  and  to  fill  in  this  outline  with 
252 


OF    PAINTING 


flat  colours  ;    then   the  painter   bends   his  will   to  try  and  WHEREIN 

overcome  mere  flatness  of  height  and  'width  by  so  painting  THE   RE- 

objects  that  they  express  depths  or,  to  put  it  perhaps  more  NAISSANCE 

simply,  to  paint  things  as  they  would  appear  in  a  mirror.  ^^    ITALY 

To  this  seemin?  simple  problem  the  whole  effort  of  the  "ERISHES 

AMIDST 
Renaissance  craftsmanship  bent  its  will — first  by  essaying  ^ttt?  rthm*; 

to  paint  objects  as  they  saw  that  low  reliefs  in  sculpture 
uttered  them,  by  winning  to  mastery  of  light  and  shade. 
And  Michelangelo,  for  all  his  gigantic  strength  and 
vigorous  will,  was  able  to  thrust  the  craft  of  painting  no 
farther  than  this  intention,  which  Leonardo  da  Vinci  had 
already  conquered.  With  their  craftsmanship  of  painting 
developed  to  this  advance,  however,  the  vast  genius  of 
Florence  employed  it  to  astounding  purpose,  compelling 
it  to  express  a  mighty  gamut  of  human  emotion  that 
reaches  from  the  most  exquisite  and  subtle  shades  of 
mystery  to  the  stupendous  and  awful  heights  that  create 
the  sense  of  the  sublime. 

But  with  colour  as  colour — with  the  employment  of 
colour  to  do  what  the  Florentines  compelled  light  and 
shade  to  do,  the  whole  genius  of  Tuscany  achieved  but 
little.  Florence  employed  colour  with  exquisite  sense  of 
its  rhythm  ;  but  of  its  vast  values  in  uttering  the  orchestra- 
tion of  the  musical  thrill  that  colour  arouses  in  the  senses, 
of  the  relations  of  colour  to  colour  bathed  in  the  depth  of 
the  atmosphere  that  surrounds  each  object  before  the 
vision,  they  knew  scarce  aught  at  all.  They  were  feeling 
dumbly  for  it,  but  could  get  no  nearer  than  to  state  the 
light  and  shade  of  things  with  intense  and  exquisite  in- 
quisitiveness,  and  to  play  colour  thereabout. 

One  of  the  sadnesses  of  the  fact  of  life  is  the  shortness 
of  its  duration  ;  but  an  even  more  pathetic  fact  is  the  short 

253 


PAINTING 


THE  duration  of  the  greatness  of  a  people.     The  Italian  peoples 

GOLDEN         roused  like  a  young  giant  to  inhale  the  breath  of  the  New 
AGE  Thought.     With  eager  desire  they  leaped  forward  to  grasp 

it.  It  took  but  three  hundred  years  completely  to  exhaust 
them.  The  full  significance  they  would  not  realise.  And 
the  New  Ambitions  of  Man,  the  New  Virility,  folded  its 
cloak  and  silently  flitted  over  the  northern  fastnesses  of  the 
Alps,  and  departed  to  other  peoples.  Italy  reeled  back,  a 
slave  under  the  heels  of  servile  polities  ;  her  literary 
endeavour  a  mere  feeble  and  academic  scholarship  ;  her  art 
grown  into  mere  futile  imitations  of  her  former  greatness. 


THE    END    OF    VOLUME    I. 


PrintcH  by  T.  and  A.  Constable,  Printer*  to  His  Majesty 
at  the  Edinburgh  University  Preai 


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